


Cat's Cradle

by syncopate (orphan_account)



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Angst, M/M, Red String of Fate, long thing with way too much shifting pov, random kpop people cameos, soulmate!AU, why do i like angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6829711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/syncopate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where too many red strings criss cross haphazardly across your vision, twisted and stretched and knotted, they stop meaning anything at all. The idea of soulmates is a pretty one, but for most people, life doesn't quite allow the option of chasing down the other end of the string looped around your little finger. They love who they love and marry who they will; the knots between hearts are strong enough.<br/>Kim Kibum doesn't bother about these things; love and soulmates are luxuries he can't afford at this point. And when he meets the man whose soul is apparently the perfect fit to his, his soulmate already has a heart's companion.<br/>Maybe it's time to find out if the string between the souls of strangers means more than the string between the hearts of lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. cat's cradle

‘Kibum, could you file these documents?’

 

‘Kibum, Mr Zhang is coming in for a meeting on the 27th, could you schedule him in?’

 

‘Kibum, there’s an event on the 18th of next month, we will need your help in sending out of the various advertisements and collateral.’

 

‘Kibum, please print out the files attached in Mr Cho’s email, I will need them for a meeting later.’

 

‘Kibum...’

 

‘Kibum…’

 

‘Kibum…’

 

Kim Kibum sighs and covers his face with his hands. There’s a moment in everyone’s life that the whole busy-ness of everything seems absolutely worthless, insignificant, and completely redundant, and he is very near to that point.  _ Work hard! You need the money, _ he whispers to himself, fist pumping into the air, to the amusement of his colleague next to him. Ending up in a small company doing administrative work hadn’t been part of his childhood dreams, but life often likes to make a mockery of dreams. And when circumstances topple you into situations you hadn’t expected to be in, maybe all you can do is roll with the punches. If his father hadn’t been retrenched that one day in high school, if he had managed to find another job that paid enough, if Kibum hadn’t needed to drop out of school and find a job at 17 years old. If his parents hadn’t died five years ago. If, if, if. But there’s no point thinking about ifs is there? He earns enough for rent, and food, and even for night classes to earn the degree he hadn’t the chance to earlier. So maybe the life he’s leading now isn’t so bad, maybe the ‘if’s don’t hurt so much, maybe it’s all part of the path of life. Maybe. There’s no point thinking anyway.

 

When he rises up to walk to the toilet, an excuse to  _ breathe _ , he notices the two new female staff whispering and sneaking looks at him. There’s a casual thought that passes the front of his mind, that maybe he should take up the invitations they sometimes shyly offer him, but it dissolves as quickly as it appears. He doesn’t have time for it, and certainly doesn’t have the energy.

 

Love is an odd phenomenon. The red strings of fate turn visible to human eyes when a child turns 13, when the hormones of puberty begin to make their mark on their physical bodies. In an ideal world, it would probably be a blessing, a treasure map, an obvious path to lead you to who you are supposed to end up with. But the real world is filled with too many humans, too many strings, strings that overlap, crisscross, tangle in the front of your eyes, and tracing a single specific string in the maze of too many others is often more work than most people would care for. It is odd, that the legendary red thread has become something that most people overlook, that it has turned into background scenery, barely focused on or acknowledged.  _ But maybe it makes sense, _ Kibum thinks.  _ Love probably isn’t ever supposed to be that easy.  _

 

At any rate, easy or difficult, there isn’t space for it in Kibum’s life. Love is probably more of a luxury than most people think.

 

If anything, Kibum is ruthlessly practical. He’s had to be, perhaps.

 

He huffs out a short breath and reopens the calendar to begin organizing the next month’s schedule. 

 

~-~

 

The last thing he expects to see when he walks out of his apartment’s elevator is a couple of guys enthusiastically attempting to eat each other’s faces in front of his door. They are both strangers, one a little smaller than the other, and their blonde hair merge together in the way that makes it difficult to differentiate between them. He wonders a little, what it feels like to want another person like these people seem to want each other, what it feels like to try to fit one’s body into the curves of another. There is a tiny part of him that experiences a sense of loneliness, but the overriding emotion is annoyance. 

 

He stalks up to the couple and clears his throat. Several times. Loudly. And when they pull apart, he’s smiling at them, a thin-lipped, sickly sweet smile. They are both striking, but in different ways. The taller one has that ethereal beauty that very few people have, like he’s from an entirely different realm. The shorter one has a different sort of beauty; features that should be too big to be attractive, but combine together into something that makes breath catch in your throat. There’s a blush that’s colouring the cheekbones of the shorter guy, but the taller one looks slightly smug. Kibum decides he doesn’t like the taller one. 

 

‘It would be nice,’ Kibum says dryly. ‘If you kept your displays of affections behind a closed door. Or well, at least not in front of mine.’

 

When they don’t move, he taps his foot impatiently. ‘If you didn’t understand,’ he continues. ‘That means please move out of the way.’ He wants to laugh when the shorter one tugs at the wrist of the taller one, almost stumbling to get out of the way. The taller guy does laugh though, but Kibum doesn’t bother to react because his doorway is empty again and he’s that close to comfort. 

 

There are fingers that close around his wrist before he can open his door, and he turns to the side with an exasperated sigh. He meets the excited eyes of the shorter guy. ‘What,’ he grits out. ‘String!’ The annoying guy says, gesturing between their pinkie fingers. Kibum wants to tell him that grown men should have more vocabulary than he is currently demonstrating, but his gaze lands on the red string that twines around his little finger and traces it to the loop around the little finger of the other guy. It’s fascinating; he’s never actually known anyone who finds out who their soul mate is. But it’s also not something he intends to pursue, and obviously Mr. Soulmate has another person already that he’s perfectly happy with, if that exhibition in the corridor was any indication. 

 

‘So?’ Kibum responds, catching a glimpse of disappointment that clouds those large eyes, before he opens his door and stalks into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him.

  
  
  
  


Jonghyun stares at the closed door in a sort of trance. The guy who had blown past them was like a hurricane, and he has been left a little short of breath. Weird, that his next door neighbour should end up being his soulmate. Weird that he had found his soulmate at all. It’s notoriously difficult, and he had tried, years ago, when he was still young and starry-eyed, when he still believed that life was complete if you could just find the one. He has grown up since then, but the part of him that believes in happily ever afters and perfect fits still exists somewhere deep inside. 

 

His soul mate is pretty, Jonghyun decides. Not like Taemin, no one could look like Taemin. And his mouth curls into a tiny smile. His soul mate has sharper features, like each part was very specifically carved out and put together. There had been something almost aggressive about the way he had looked at them, something that reminded Jonghyun about a punch in the gut. He thinks that if that power existed, that boy would be able to see through skin. 

 

Taemin’s tug on his wrist brings Jonghyun back into the present. And his boyfriend. It should feel like guilt, to be pondering his soulmate while standing next to someone he’s in a relationship with. But guilt in which direction? It’s definitely a conundrum no one would have expected to be thrown into.  _ The answer is easy, _ Jonghyun thinks, and he smiles as Taemin drags him into the apartment, as fingers slide up his stomach and lips touch the shell of his ear.  _ Why swap a lover for a stranger? _ But there is something like interest stirring in his gut; something about the way the boy had spoken, direct and assertive, made him want to find out more, find out what lay behind the piercing eyes and biting words. 

 

‘Stop thinking,’ Taemin whispers. Jonghyun lets out a laugh, leans up to kiss him, and lets his thoughts disappear.

  
  
  
  
  


The next morning, Taemin rolls out of the bed at seven thirty. 

 

‘So early’ Jonghyun whines, his voice gritty with sleep. ‘Come back.’

 

‘I need to go home to get some stuff before work,’ Taemin whispers. ‘You go back to sleep.’ 

 

‘You should just move in with me,’ Jonghyun mutters, but he’s already falling back into sleep, and despite the leap that Taemin’s heart makes, he doesn’t quite want to say yes yet. 

 

‘I’ll think about it,’ he whispers in Jonghyun’s ear, and brushes his lips across his forehead. 

 

Jonghyun hums, reaching out blindly to ruffle Taemin’s hair, and slowly drops back into slumber. Taemin chuckles, fond and soft, and is careful not to make too much noise while showering and leaving the apartment. 

 

He bumps into Jonghyun’s soulmate at the elevator. 

 

It’s an incredibly strange situation to be in; perhaps at one time, everyone thought soulmates were the ultimate destination in your life’s journey. But the increasing difficulty of it as the world’s population rapidly expanded led to more people just loving who they were with, instead of saving love for their fated intended who they might never quite cross paths with. Taemin thinks fate is capricious and cruel. 

 

He studies the soulmate from the corner of his eye as they descend the few floors down to the ground level. He’s dressed up, smart and polished, hair brushed to a shine, shirt carefully buttoned, pants ironed straight. But the clothes look just the wrong side of new, and each item, although carefully maintained, does not actually look expensive. And Taemin wonders what kind of person this guy is, that he would be so intent on making even the barest simplicity look perfect. He’s very attractive, Taemin decides; the kind of face you don’t quite forget, arresting and forceful. Not quite beautiful, not quite handsome, a mix of both. He’s all angles and distinct edges; high cheekbones, defined jaw, sharp nose; majestic, albeit veering on the border of too thin. Almost like he’s too little skin stretched over his bones. Jonghyun would like fattening him up a little, Taemin thinks wryly. And he wonders what would have happened if he hadn’t met Jonghyun two years ago, and they hadn’t fallen in love. 

 

Soulmate guy glances over and catches Taemin’s stare, and Taemin flinches, not sure the kind of reaction he would get. He doesn’t expect a cordial smile.

 

‘Hi,’ Soulmate guy says, and his voice is lower than Taemin recalls. ‘Sorry I was so cranky yesterday, it was a long day at work.’ 

 

‘That’s fine,’ Taemin says, the words almost stumbling out. ‘We were in your way.’ 

 

The elevator doors slide open before Taemin can figure out how to ask him about The Jonghyun Situation and how he feels about soulmates and if somehow there should be something he should be doing, as the potentially illicit boyfriend of one half of a bound pair. Soulmate guy strides out and lifts his hand in a wave and walks purposefully to the right. Taemin decides that he’ll probably see him way too often, and that any words can be said at another time. He turns to the left, back to his own apartment.

 

~-~

 

‘Jongin, wake up!’ Taemin pounces on the peacefully slumbering figure of his roommate and arguably also his best friend, when he gets home. Jongin and Taemin had first met three years ago, when Taemin had first begun working at the dance school. Jongin had been the other new teacher, and the idea of staying together and sharing rent had seemed like a reasonable idea then. The closeness of their relationship now attested to that.

 

‘Why. Are. You. Here.’ Jongin groans, grabs one pillow to throw at Taemin, and another to shield his face. 

 

‘I live here,’ Taemin says. ‘What are you talking about?’ 

 

‘Weren’t you at your boyfriend’s?’ Jongin grumbles, voice muffled by the fabric of the pillow on his face. 

 

‘Yeah, but I needed to get those progress reports for the Intermediates,’ Taemin says. ‘So I came back.’

 

‘To annoy me,’ Jongin completes his sentence.

 

Taemin snorts. ‘Please don’t flatter yourself.’ 

 

He pauses, legs swinging back and forth against the side of Jongin’s bed and stares at the supine figure under the blanket. ‘Hey Jongin,’ Taemin says. ‘Jonghyun asked me to move in with him this morning.’ 

 

Jongin pushes the pillow away from his face and looks up at Taemin with sleep bleary eyes. ‘That’s good news right? Why do you look so worried?’ 

 

‘He asked at seven in the morning when his mind was still half drunk on sleep, I doubt he’ll remember.’

 

‘Besides,’ he continues. ‘We met his soulmate last night.’ 

 

Jongin doesn’t say a word, just watches as Taemin works out his emotions. 

 

‘Jonghyun managed to notice his thread from the incredible  _ mess _ of threads there are in his apartment building. I don’t know if I should laugh at the feat or be worried that he was even able to accomplish that.’ Taemin knows his smile is a little bit crooked.

 

‘He’s always loved the idea of soulmates, you knew that going in,’ Jongin says. ‘But I don’t think that means he’s going to leave you.’

 

Taemin scoffs. ‘No, of course he wouldn’t,’ he declares. ‘Why are we even talking about this? Let’s go to work.’

 

Jongin raises an eyebrow at the too quick words, but he’s too astute to try to press Taemin any further. 

 

‘Go by yourself,’ he tells Taemin, throwing the second pillow at him and curling further into his blanket. ‘My first class is at 12 today.’ 

 

Taemin barks out a laugh, picks up both pillows, places them carefully on the bed, and exits the room.

  
  
  
  
  


Jonghyun can’t quite figure out why, but the face of his neighbour and soulmate keeps floating to the front of his mind. Even as he starts up his laptop to write a chapter of his book, even as he fields borderline hysterical emails from his editor, even as he attempts to compose a song instead, to clear his head. It’s as if now that he knows his soulmate is that close, all he wants to do is include him in his life somehow, even if it’s not in a romantic way.  _ Especially _ not in a romantic way, he emphasizes to himself.

 

He wonders why that guy had little to no thrill at the idea of them sharing a string, wonders why all Jonghyun had gotten in response was an uncaring shrug and a door closed in his face. Surely, the idea of soulmates hadn’t become that passè right? If he, Kim Jonghyun, believer in true romance, was meant to be tied to a man who laughs in the face of perfect matches, did that mean the red thread missed a mark? 

 

The cursor blinks back at him from the blank document open on his laptop and Jonghyun groans. It’s ridiculous, he has Taemin, he has been happy, still  _ is _ happy. The fact that a stranger has the other end of his string tied around his little finger should mean nothing at all. 

 

But it  _ does _ mean something, at least to Jonghyun. He wants to find out what kind of person he’s apparently supposed to be with, wants to  _ know _ what kind of personality lies under that haughty face, wants to know if he would have fallen in love.

 

Did that count as cheating, he wonders. He has a premonition that Taemin might see it as such. We could be friends, he decides, just friends. If that guy wanted it. If he didn’t slam something else in Jonghyun’s face. If he even sees him again. Which  _ should _ happen since they are neighbours but it wasn’t a sure thing. Nothing ever is, is it? Jonghyun groans again and drags weary hands across his eyes.  _ Stop thinking,  _ he hisses at himself.  _ Concentrate. _

 

He tugs the laptop closer to him and finally manages to form coherent sentences.

  
  


Later that evening when he wanders out the door, the leash of his dachshund in his hand, he sees his soulmate, crouching at his doorway, cooing softly to two little poodles. ‘Don’t do this,’ he’s saying, as they whine piteously at him. ‘I’ll take you out after I’m back.’ There’s a softness in his face that Jonghyun finds very alluring and he blames that for what he does next. 

 

When he clears his throat, his soulmate spins around and gathers himself up. ‘Hi,’ Jonghyun starts. ‘Remember me?’ His soulmate raises a single well defined eyebrow and says nothing in return.

 

Undeterred, Jonghyun persists. ‘I’m Jonghyun, and I was thinking, I could help bring your dogs out, if you want?’ He raises the leash he’s holding. ‘I’m bringing Roo out anyway, so it’s no big deal.’

 

Soulmate guy blinks twice, and lets his gaze travel slowly up Jonghyun’s body. ‘You’re a little too tiny to handle three dogs at once, don’t you think?’

 

Jonghyun is shocked into a laugh. ‘I did a lot of dog walking once upon a time, you’d be surprised.’

 

When soulmate guy smiles, it’s almost like a lightning bolt in the dark sky. Then he shakes his head. ‘It’s fine, it’s just a couple more hours for them to wait, you don’t need to.’

 

Jonghyun ignores him, steps forward and crouches down to talk to the poodles himself. ‘Hey, do you want to come out with me and Roo? It’ll be fun!’ He waves the leash and Roo gives an almost obliging woof, and the two tiny poodles start jumping at Jonghyun. 

 

‘I’ll never get them to calm down now, thanks.’ Soulmate guy is unamused.

 

‘So?’ Jonghyun says, parroting their first interaction. ‘Let me take them out and you won’t need to.’

 

It’s a stalemate.

 

‘Oh, alright!’ Soulmate guy exclaims after some minutes have elapsed. ‘I’m going to late for class at this rate, let me just get their leashes. I’ll let you do this but, please do  _ not _ kill or maim my babies.’

 

‘Hey!’ Jonghyun exclaims, mildly insulted. But the door has already closed in his face. Again.

 

When soulmate guy comes out holding the two leashes, Jonghyun lets himself gaze appreciatively at him. He really  _ is _ attractive. 

 

‘What,’ soulmate guy snaps. ‘Staring is rude.’

 

‘Nothing,’ Jonghyun says. ‘You’re just pretty.’

 

‘And as far as I know,  _ you _ have a boyfriend,’ Soulmate guy points out. 

 

Jonghyun ignores the pinprick of almost guilt. ‘Appreciating beauty isn’t a sin,’ he insists.

 

‘If you say so,’ is soulmate guy’s only response, handing the leashes to Jonghyun.

 

‘What’s your name, by the way?’ Jonghyun asks, before they split up at the bottom of the block.

 

‘Kibum,’ Soulmate guy says. Then he repeats very soberly, ‘I’m serious, please don’t kill my puppies,’ and turns away.

 

‘Hey!’ Jonghyun exclaims again, but his voice ineffectual against the wind. ‘Kibum,’ he says to himself, letting the word run against his tongue. He likes it.

  
  
  


When Kibum gets back home that night, he’s momentarily taken aback by the lack of his puppies greeting him. Then he recalls the annoyingly persuasive neighbour of his who hadn’t wanted to take no for an answer. He sighs, there’s something he doesn’t quite trust about the offer of friendship, the knowledge of the string between them makes every attempt seem almost contrived, like they are being forced into something only by obligation. He drags himself to the next door and rings the bell.

‘Hello!’ Soulmate pers- Jonghyun opens the door and beams. ‘I'm pleased to announce I didn't kill them! Your babies are safe and sound if a little tired!’

‘Good,’ Kibum responds, words too stiff on his tongue for some reason. ‘Congratulations. I can take them off your hands now.’

‘Come in for coffee!’ Jonghyun insists, grin widening. If that was even possible.

‘Do you always only talk in exclamation points,’ Kibum says dryly.

‘Only when I’m happy,’ Jonghyun says, and a lazy smile spreads across his face. Kibum feels a sudden unwanted spark of attraction right in his gut.  _ Not appropriate,  _ he warns himself.

His poodles are prancing around Jonghyun’s dachshund, nipping at her fur and hind-legs. Kibum smiles unconsciously.  _ They don’t look tired, _ he thinks, and shakes his head.

‘Comme des! Garcons!’ He calls and they run over to him, nearly tumbling over their little legs. ‘You two had fun, huh?’

He stands up with the two puppies held in his arms and turns around to Jonghyun leaning against the kitchen door, eyes lit up with amusement. ‘What are their names, exactly?’ He asks.

‘Comme des,’ Kibum says, raising the pup with tawny fur, ‘and Garcons,’ raising the pup with the chocolate fur.

‘Interesting names,’ Jonghyun says, lightly, and before Kibum can open his mouth to question him about what exactly he meant by that, Jonghyun offers Kibum a cup of coffee. ‘It’s black,’ he says. ‘I brought out milk and sugar if you want.’

Kibum stares at him until the moment Jonghyun realizes that his hands are occupied. Jonghyun lets out a chuckle, and places the cup on the edge of the table.

‘You didn’t need to,’ Kibum says.

‘I wanted to,’ Jonghyun replies.

The whole situation is intensely awkward, and Kibum’s brain is racing to find excuses to politely leave the place. Jonghyun’s stare is too considering, and Kibum feels bare under the force of his eyes. It's one thing to exchange snappy remarks in the openness of the corridor, another thing  _ entirely _ to be trapped in an apartment trying to make small talk with a neighbour you don't really know if you want to be friends with.

‘So, what do you do?’ Jonghyun asks.

Kibum doesn’t want to answer; answering means letting him in, means potentially becoming friends; and becoming friends with someone whose soul is supposed to be the perfect fit to his, is probably a lot more complicated than he’s willing to deal with. Especially since Jonghyun already has someone.

But there’s something endearing about the way Jonghyun smiles, the way his eyes crinkle up and his lips stretch, it makes him look young and innocent, and that something makes Kibum answer the question, makes Kibum enter into a conversation.

‘You’re a  _ writer _ and a  _ musician,’ _ Kibum says, almost incredulous. It sounds incredible, like Jonghyun is living in an entirely different world, where liberal arts are deemed relevant professions. But maybe it’s Kibum who is too obsessed with stability, too intent on making sure every step he takes is on a rock solid surface.

Jonghyun chuckles, ‘I know, it sounds fantastic, but it isn’t as fun as it seems. It’s a lot of work.’

Kibum grins, ‘I can imagine.’

Jonghyun tells him about book launches, and overly fussy editors, money minded publishers and the long trawl from agent to agent, from company to company to pitch his story. ‘I got lucky,’ he admits. Kibum agrees. He wishes he had a pinch of Jonghyun's luck.

He tells Jonghyun about his job and his studies, but doesn’t quite go into detail. There are things about his life he doesn’t too willingly like to divulge. To his credit, Jonghyun doesn't pry, generously sharing anecdotes of his own life and letting Kibum say as little or as much as he wants.

A quick glance at his watch informs Kibum that he’s stayed at Jonghyun’s place for nearly 45 minutes, around 40 minutes more than he had planned to. He gathers his puppies’ leashes in one hand, and makes shuffling movements towards the door. ‘Thank you for your help again,’ he says. ‘I’ve to wake up early tomorrow so-’

Despite the laughter and conversation of before, Kibum is feeling uncomfortable again. He isn’t sure what it all means. Whether it’s even possible to be friends when that red thread is glowing neon between their individual fingers. Telling them that somehow they are actually meant to be something more.

‘Alright,’ Jonghyun says. ‘I’ll see you around?’

‘Maybe,’ Kibum replies. ‘Definitely maybe.’

Jonghyun laughs, and then, without warning, shoves a paperback into Kibum’s hands. ‘This is my book, read it.’

When Kibum doesn’t reply, staring blankly at the book, he lets out a strained chuckle. ‘I mean if you want to?’

_ Why are you so friendly? _ Kibum wants to ask.  _ This string doesn’t have to mean anything.  _ But it’s too deep to deal with so early in a friendship, or whatever he would call them. And all he wants to do is sleep. So he takes the book in his free hand, tells Jonghyun he might read it, keyword  _ might, _ smiles at him and goes home.

He decides to leave the book in the corner of a shelf, along with any misgivings he has about Jonghyun’s agenda.

  
  
  
  


Kibum regrets telling Jonghyun about which day his night classes are, because after that one day, Jonghyun appears every Wednesday and Friday at his door, Roo on her leash and a smile that makes Kibum’s stomach flip a little. The puppies get used to him, to the regularity of their walks with the dachshund, and Kibum has no heart to stop it. No heart to say no when Jonghyun looks at him out of limpid eyes. Not when after he’s back from classes, Jonghyun invites him in for coffee and they sit and talk, about nothing, about everything, about celebrity gossip, about social issues that Jonghyun picks up from the newspaper next to him. They don’t actually see each other outside from that.  _ We’re not friends, _ Kibum wants to say.  _ We can’t be friends, this is ridiculous.  _ But he doesn’t say it, because he thinks that maybe they can be, that maybe, he wants to be, just a bit. After all, the string that binds them doesn’t actually have to mean anything. Right? And it takes two to tango, and Kibum doesn’t want it to mean anything, so even if Jonghyun does, it doesn’t matter. Right? Plus, Jonghyun wouldn't want to anyway, because he has Taemin and so really there is no issue at all. Right.

It’s confusing.

He sees Taemin once in a while, standing outside Jonghyun’s door, and they exchange polite albeit strained smiles. Kibum thinks Taemin wants to say something; there’s a tightness in his jaw and a barely restrained urgency in his limbs, but Taemin hasn’t said anything at all.

Kibum suspects Taemin sees the situation with a clarity that Jonghyun cannot.

  
  
  


It’s the worst feeling in the world, Taemin decides, to kiss your boyfriend, from the corner of your eye see that red thread leading out from his little finger and know that it doesn’t link to yours. Or well, realistically it’s probably only horrible because Taemin knows exactly where it leads to, and that the person he’s bound to is attractive in a way that most people won’t deny.

Kibum’s name crops up in Jonghyun’s conversations too often for Taemin to be comfortable with now, but it isn’t anything he can actually be against. Not when it’s mostly centered on the puppies that Jonghyun helps to bring out. Kibum’s two puppies. Tiny blameless puppies that probably have no malicious designs or intent on his boyfriend. Hell, their owner doesn’t seem to have any devious designs on Jonghyun either; seems to treat him more as a convenient dog walker, in Taemin’s opinion.

‘Why are you even helping him,’ he blurts out. ‘He doesn’t seem to appreciate it.’

There is a rigid tension that unconsciously forms under Jonghyun’s shoulders at Taemin’s words. ‘He’s so busy all the time; he has work, and night classes twice a week, and he even works another job on the weekends.’

His eyes flicker off to the side. ‘If I can help him, just for those days, it’s a good thing right?’

It’s disconcerting, that Jonghyun knows so much, after just a few weeks. Worrying that he cares so much. But maybe Taemin’s overreacting, maybe it means nothing at all, maybe he’s just being kind, Jonghyun is always kind, maybe…

There’s a lump clogging up the air in Taemin’s windpipe and he can’t swallow it away.

Taemin doesn’t answer Jonghyun’s question. ‘What about your gigs? Don’t you have to work those days sometimes?’

Jonghyun grins. ‘Oh, I just told them I can’t on those nights.’ It’s said like an offhand fact, something that shouldn’t have anything attached to it. Something that is blameless.

‘Right,’ Taemin says slowly. ‘Okay.’

His heart is beating too fast in his chest, and the lump in his throat isn’t going away.  _ Why are you rearranging your life for him? _ He wants to ask.  _ Don’t you understand what is going on? _

But Jonghyun doesn’t, he realizes. Because in the next moment he segues into a story of what his editor had told him that day and the looming deadline and Taemin knows he thinks it’s just friendly. Just casual. Nothing too serious.

Taemin thinks it  _ could _ turn into something too serious if he doesn’t stop it. And it terrifies him that he doesn’t know how.

  
  
  


The smell of coffee, cinnamon and whipped cream heralds the beginning of the weekend for Kibum. While most people roll over and squeeze their noses into a pillow, Kibum darts out of his apartment at seven in the morning for his eight a.m. shift at one of the cafes near his apartment. It’s a small cafe; homey, cosy, a little old-fashioned, and, Kibum privately thinks, probably doesn’t really make much money. It makes him a little guilty to be drawing pay from them at all, and the middle-aged couple in charge of the cafe is so warm, affectionate and generous that it’s hard not to feel that way.

‘Why do you even need this job,’ his friend Woohyun had demanded, when they met for one of their rare drinks together. ‘Doesn’t your office job pay enough?’

‘You don’t know what it’s like to be without money,’ Kibum had replied, calm and unruffled. ‘I need the buffer, just in case.’

Woohyun had sighed and patted Kibum’s hand. Nam Woohyun is very important to Kibum, a vital piece of fabric in the patchwork of his life. The year that Kibum stopped high school in order to start work to help with his family could only have been survived with the support and shoulders of Woohyun. The year that his parents had died, Woohyun had been the anchor that allowed him to be able to continue walking on the painful route of life. Woohyun is an inescapable part of Kibum’s life, the most family he had at this point. And it’s tragic that his job required him to travel out of the city too often to allow Kibum to see him as often, now that they were both adults.

Kibum wants to tell Woohyun about Jonghyun, wants to ask him if he knows anyone else who might be developing a mild crush on their soul mate while said soul mate was already in a relationship with someone else. But Woohyun has been in Japan for the past three months and it looked like at least another one before he came back. And Kibum doesn’t want to talk about this over video call or text.

‘God, I need more friends,’ he complains to the coffee machine.

Choi Minho turns around from his position behind the cashier. ‘Are you talking to me?’

‘No, I was-’ Kibum pauses, eyes lighting on Minho with a contemplative thought.

Minho is the son of the owners, quiet and solemn, and one of those boys everyone would probably hate if he wasn’t so darn nice, because his looks had a classic perfection that most people would have to go under the knife for. Kibum isn’t friends with him, not really, they just worked together. But maybe they could be friends now.

‘Do you believe in soulmates?’

There’s a silence while Minho stares at Kibum with a sort of incredulity. ‘Kind of hard not to, don’t you think?’ He gestures to the intricate pattern of scarlet strings that float between and behind each table and chair in the cafe.

‘No, I mean,’ Kibum says. ‘Do you think we can  _ only _ be with our soulmate? Or that we have to be?’

‘I don’t actually think life is that straightforward.’ Minho grins at him. ‘Why so many questions? Wondering if I’m your soulmate? Want to check?’

Kibum wonders why he had thought Minho was silent and sweet.

‘Go back to work,’ he snaps. But there’s a bubbling in his chest. He thinks maybe he’s found another friend.

  
  
  


‘I found a dog park!’ Jonghyun announces, as Kibum steps out of the elevator after his shift. 'Do you want the bring the dogs there together?' He’s been hovering outside Kibum’s door for about ten minutes waiting for him to come home. He's not entirely sure why he's excited, but he's also decided not to think about it.

‘I smell like coffee,’ Kibum says. ‘And I’m really tired. Can you come back later? Or not at all.’ Jonghyun thinks Kibum does look tired, fatigue in the creases in the corner of his eyes, and maybe that tiredness has shredded his thought-to-mouth filters, because the next thing he says slips out of his mouth almost like an accident.

‘Why do you care anyway? This string doesn’t have to mean anything.’ Kibum sounds exhausted, but there’s an honest bewilderment that is underlying the words.

A feeling reminiscent of epiphany makes its way through Jonghyun’s head. He thinks he understands why Kibum shies away sometimes, why he's unwilling to share more. ‘You look lonely sometimes,’ he says softly, candidly. ‘I don’t like that.’ There’s something disarmingly tender about his feelings at how vulnerable Kibum looks at the present instance, like his shields have fallen. He wants to hold his breath, because something fragile might be forming between them, like the strings of spiderwebs, glittery in the sun. Jonghyun doesn’t really know why he cares or even if what he said is the real answer, but he thinks it’s the right answer for that moment.

‘Oh,’ Kibum says. ‘Oh.’ Like he doesn’t quite know what else to say. He smiles, and his dimples peek out, and Jonghyun thinks there’s an angelic creature under the tough, sardonic shell. He thinks he wants to see it more often. There’s something intoxicating about Kibum, something that makes air crystallize in his chest.

‘We can go to the dog park another time,’ Kibum says, and his smile turns brighter.

‘Okay,’ Jonghyun says, his voice is little more than a murmur.

When the door closes, Jonghyun tries to catch his breath, tries to make sense of that almost giddy feeling that had stolen all the air in his lungs.

‘I need to sleep more,’ he tells himself, pushing at the door of his own apartment. ‘This lack of sleep is getting to me.’

  
  


Life goes by in pauses and fast-forwards, too quick then too slow, and good things come even when your personal life is teetering on the edge of hell.

Maybe Taemin is just being overdramatic. But when he receives the news of a promotion at work, it feels almost like the world is finally being kind to him in the midst of the pain and uncertainty. It means more money, more opportunities, actual choreography responsibilities. It means there’s something real to everything he’s been working towards.

‘One part of my life seems to be making sense, at least,’ he remarks to Jongin.

‘Two parts,’ Jongin corrects. ‘You have me.’

Taemin rolls his eyes, but he smiles despite himself.

‘Gonna tell your boyfriend?’ Jongin asks, when he sees Taemin take a quick glance at his phone. It’s a weird quirk that Jongin has, to never refer to Jonghyun by name.

‘You think I should?’ Taemin asks. Because he’s afraid of their relationship now, afraid of what it could turn into; the presence of Kibum is destroying them from inside, and Taemin seems to be the only one who realizes.

‘I think he would be happy for you.’ Jongin smiles, but there is pity in the stretch of his mouth. And Jonghyun would, Taemin knows that. Jonghyun is kind, and genuine and warm. And Jonghyun loves him. But Jonghyun also doesn’t realize that the love between them is changing. If Taemin holds on, is he a fool? Or is Jonghyun the fool; the one who doesn’t realize that his heart is turning towards another person’s smile?

The phone rings and rings, the sound like mocking laughter in Taemin’s ears. Jonghyun doesn’t pick up.

‘He’s probably composing or writing again,’ Taemin tells Jongin, pressing the button to end the call. Jongin shrugs, the tilt of his shoulders sloping, and changes the subject. ‘What time’s your last class today?’

‘The six p.m. Beginners class,’ Taemin responds. ‘Why?’

‘Mine’s at seven,’ Jongin says. ‘Wait for me, I’ll treat you to dinner.’

‘Wow,’ Taemin says, exaggerated exhilaration lining every word. ‘Where is this generosity coming from?’

‘Shut up,’ Jongin snaps. ‘Be grateful.’

The laughter that falls from Taemin’s mouth is sincere and free, and for a moment he forgets the complicated mess his love life is slowing knitting itself into.

‘Hey,’ Jongin says. And he slings an arm around Taemin’s shoulders. ‘Stop thinking, okay? It’s not over until it is.’

‘Thank you for the wisdom, oh great guru,’ Taemin almost sings. Jongin grins.

  
  
  


Minho has made life a little easier, Kibum thinks, as he makes his way back home from class that day. It’s incredible that he never talked to him seriously before. In just a few weeks, he’s gone from silent stranger to friend. It’s uncomplicated and easy. Something to whine to when life isn’t smooth, someone to send silly thoughts to, someone to rely on, even if Kibum hasn’t let himself tell Minho all that much.

It’s nice, Kibum decides. Simple. A relief now, to have someone to lean on, especially when Woohyun is still stuck in Japan. It’s not like his classmates, who act like every lesson is a competition, even if their smiles are friendly. Not like his colleagues, who treat him a little like wallpaper. Not like Jonghyun, who looks at him with a gaze that borders too close to something else, something he probably shouldn’t touch.

Jonghyun. As Kibum pushes open the door to his apartment, he starts thinking about Jonghyun; Jonghyun who he still needs to see later, to pick up his puppies. It’s usually thoughtless; a knock at the door, a snappy careless remark, sometimes, most times, staying a little while longer. But there’s been something tender growing between them, and it’s not something he really should want to allow. It’s the same something that had made him cook too much that evening before leaving for class.

There’s a delivery man he sees every other day at Jonghyun’s door, and Kibum never quite considered himself bothered about it. Until he found himself entertaining the idea of bringing food over, until he actually made too much. If Jonghyun was Minho, or Woohyun, all he’d do is push open the door, shove the pot in his face and inform him of the benefits of healthy eating. And he would have, a few weeks ago. But nowadays, when Jonghyun smiles, there’s a part of Kibum’s chest that clenches.  _ I don’t like that you look lonely,  _ Jonghyun had said, and Kibum thinks that’s the point he had allowed himself to topple over the barrier he had built up around himself. Stupid really, but what’s done is done. And he can’t take back some of the pieces of himself he had accidentally allowed to get caught.

Maybe he’s slipping past a few boundaries, crossing lines that he personally put into place. He thinks they probably shouldn’t allow themselves to get close. The strings say  _ I belong to you; you belong to me _ but do they really? Do they belong to each other? Can the string actually catch the heart and does the heart want to be caught?

Kibum doesn’t need this, doesn’t  _ want _ this. But he likes the way Jonghyun laughs, the furrowed intensity of his brow when he puts forward an opinion, and the gentleness of his hands on the heads of the puppies. And maybe just spending time is okay, maybe it’s perfectly legitimate, just like this. Behind the lines of something more.

Jonghyun’s smile when he opens the door is like a jagged beam of sunlight across his face. Kibum hates that he finds it beautiful.

‘I brought-’ Kibum raises the pot. ‘You really shouldn’t eat so much take out.’ He wonders if it’s another way of saying  _ I care about you _ . He wonders if Jonghyun knows, and if this is a game they shouldn’t be playing.

Then Jonghyun’s smile gets wider and his eyes crinkle up and Kibum thinks it’s alright if it just stays like this; frozen just a breath away from too close. Maybe this way no one gets hurt.

  
  
  


Taemin ruins the dinner by drinking too much; drinking too much and blathering too much about the rotten apple that his relationship has turned into.

‘Maybe,’ he tells Jongin. ‘Maybe it would be easier if these stupid red strings didn’t exist. Or if we couldn’t see them.’

‘If your boyfriend didn’t pay so much attention to them, you mean.’

The statement has enough power to effectively stop Taemin’s incoherent stream of words.

‘Why,’ he cries suddenly, broken and hollow. ‘Why wasn’t just me enough? Why couldn’t he ever forget the thread?’

Jongin lets out a cracked laugh. ‘He’s still yours, you can still find a way to keep him.’

There’s something wild in Jongin’s eyes that quickly dissolves before Taemin can identify it.

‘Eat,’ Jongin says. ‘Drown your sorrows in meat.’

For some reason, Taemin finds this statement hilarious. And the laughter spills out around him, almost hysterical. It dissipates the dark cloud that had fallen like a dense fog over them.

‘I’m sorry,’ he tells Jongin. ‘Maybe I’m thinking too much.’

 

‘I think relationships do that to a person sometimes,’ Jongin says, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

And Taemin thinks, with Jongin around, maybe he’ll still be alright, even if the world tries to stand on its head.

 

‘Don’t go see him,’ Jongin warns, when Taemin tells him to go home first.

‘Why not,’ Taemin retorts.

Jongin’s sympathetic look is both pathetic and grating. ‘You’re not entirely sober yet, I don’t think he needs to deal with this.’

‘He’s my boyfriend,’ Taemin insists. ‘He  _ should _ deal.’

‘You’re not being fair, Tae,’ Jongin says.

Taemin decides his placid patience is annoying. ‘I don’t  _ want _ to be fair.’

‘But we can’t always get what we want, can we? Stop being a child!’ The heated passion in the words alarms Taemin. The outburst is strange and out of character, and it’s a side of Jongin he doesn’t recognize.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jongin says after a few long seconds of silence. ‘I hope you had fun today?’

Taemin feels something inside of him crack at the smallness of Jongin’s words, and the regret at using him so casually as a venting board, punching bag, human shooting range, is uncomfortably bitter at the back of his throat.

‘I did,’ Taemin says, and he’s sincere. ‘I don’t know what I would do without you. Really.’

Jongin pulls Taemin into a loose hug and they stay like that for one still moment. ‘I don’t know what I would do without you,’ Taemin says again, words whispered into Jongin’s shoulder. Jongin sighs, and Taemin can feel his shoulders lift and sag.

‘You’ll be okay, you know?’ Jongin sounds too sure for Taemin to believe.

‘I hope so,’ he says. ‘I really do.’

 

When Jonghyun opens the door to let Taemin into his apartment, Taemin wishes he had listened to Jongin. Because Kibum is there, playing with Roo and two puppies that Taemin assumes are his own, and he looks so damned natural in the setting of Jonghyun’s apartment that Taemin feels like  _ he’s _ the visitor.

‘Kibum brought stew!’ Jonghyun tells him, eyes bright. And Taemin wants to scream, wants to say  _ I don’t care. I don’t want to know anything about him. Talk about me, not him. Think about me, not him.   _ But he doesn’t. Instead, he nods in Kibum’s direction, lips turned up into something that he hopes approximates a smile. Taemin can feel Kibum’s eyes like laser beams scanning over him, as if gauging the truths of his words and expressions.

Maybe something falls short, because Kibum brushes his fingers against the skin of Jonghyun’s forearm and says something that Taemin works out is  _ I’ll go first, it’s late. _ And Jonghyun nods, smiling softly at him, silly affection in the edges of his mouth. He can almost see the spark that flares between them when Kibum smiles back and there’s a crashing, crushing type of pain in his chest, like his ribs are collapsing over his heart. Maybe a more intelligent person would give up now, but Taemin isn’t that smart, and when Jonghyun looks back at him with a happiness dancing in his eyes, Taemin thinks,  _ there might still be something I can work with _ , and decides he’ll be the silly one who keeps trying.

‘Why was he here?’ Taemin asks. And his voice is quiet, almost like a deadly snake. He feels like one too, coiled up and ready to strike at defenseless prey.

‘He comes over after his class usually,’ Jonghyun says, as if it means nothing, as if it’s harmless. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ It’s not nothing, at least not to Taemin.

‘What brings you here anyway?’ Jonghyun asks, and he’s smiling up at Taemin like he’s a jewel he found by accident. It feels wrong, that Kibum’s presence is ordinary, and Taemin’s a pleasant surprise. But Taemin wants to keep the smile that Jonghyun is wearing, wants to keep them afloat, somehow.

‘I got promoted,’ he starts. ‘And I tried to call you to tell you, but you never answered.’

‘Oh gosh,’ Jonghyun says, apology in every twist of his face. ‘I had it on mute, and I was figuring out a plot line, and then I went to pick up Kibum’s puppies and time just escaped me. Congratulations! Wha-’

But everything else he might have wanted to say is blown apart by Taemin’s emotions.

‘Kibum, Kibum, Kibum. That’s all you talk about now. Why is he always here? Why do you spend so much time with him? Why are you so  _ interested? _ ’

It feels like relief, to release all the insecurities and uncertainties of the few weeks. And when Jonghyun tries to interject, Taemin doesn’t let him.

‘I got  _ promoted _ today, and I wanted to call you, to celebrate with me. But you didn’t answer and I come here to see you in happy domesticity with  _ him _ .’

‘I know he’s your soulmate, but, does that mean you want him to be your lover too?’

There’s something terrifying about the question, sprung too quickly from his lips, like the words have swum up from his heart and fallen out of his mouth without passing through throught. Taemin isn’t sure he knows what the answer will be.

Judging by the long minutes of silence that elapse, Jonghyun doesn’t quite know either.

  
  


Taemin’s flare-up startles Jonghyun. He had known that maybe his closeness to Kibum would not have been appreciated, but the ferocity of emotions is unexpected.

_ Does that mean you want him to be your lover too? _

The question is blunt and open, it exposes the pain Taemin has been carrying around, makes it clear that there are doubts that he has built up in the verity of the relationship, in the truth of their love. And Jonghyun wants to believe he can solve it, that it’s a blip in the path.

‘Of course not,’ he says, and if the twist in the center of his chest means anything, he doesn’t want to know.

Taemin looks like a lost child suddenly, a child torn from everything he’s known, but his eyes look horribly old; jaded and tired. And Jonghyun wonders if he’s the cause, if his odd need to pull Kibum into his life has turned Taemin into this. Guilt is a hard companion to share a body with.

‘He’s my friend,’ Jonghyun says softly, hands fluttering gently over Taemin’s cheek. ‘Just a friend, I promise.’

‘Like you and Jongin.’

Taemin leans into Jonghyun’s hand, eyes falling shut. ‘You and Kibum are nothing like me and Jongin,’ he says. And maybe there should be more to the sentence, but he doesn’t say anything else, only curls arms around Jonghyun’s waist and pulls him close.

Jonghyun leans up and kisses Taemin on the mouth, soft and gentle, pressure increasing as Taemin responds. And he hopes that the kisses erase thoughts that shouldn’t be there, that skin on skin can prove what his mouth keeps saying, and what Taemin has apparently stopped believing.

  
  
  
  
  


‘Kibum,’ Minho says, interrupting him in the midst of his story. ‘You know that  _ I  _ know this hypothetical ‘friend’ you’re always talking about, who might or might not be in love with his soulmate who already has a boyfriend, is you, right?’

 

Kibum pauses mid-sentence, turns startled eyes in Minho’s direction and makes a sound that closely resembles a squeak. Minho sniggers. ‘I guess you didn’t then.’

 

‘I’m not telling you anything else, ever,’ Kibum mutters, swallowing the urge to throw a cup of the blackest, most bitter coffee into the back of Minho’s shirt. 

 

‘But it was so entertaining!’ Minho whines. The female customer standing at the cashier coos at his pout and Kibum rolls his eyes. 

  
  


‘Don’t you think that ‘Jonghyun’ person is unbelievably oblivious though?’ Minho says later, when the cafe has quietened down. Kibum doesn’t like the slight sneer he hears in the words.

 

‘I don’t think he wants to let himself see it as anything more,’ Kibum says softly. ‘And hey, I might be overthinking it too.’ 

 

‘Taemin looks at me like I’m a homewrecker sometimes,’ he continues. ‘It would be funny if I didn’t actually think about what it would be like if I broke them up. Sometimes.’ 

 

‘Maybe you should date me instead,’ Minho offers. And there’s a flash of seriousness in his expression that Kibum doesn’t want to acknowledge. He laughs and shakes his head. 

 

‘You don’t want to date someone whose head is crammed with someone else’s smile,’ he says.

 

Minho grins unapologetically. ‘Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying.’

 

‘Do you think I should force the issue?’ Kibum says. But he doesn’t mean it. What good would it do to push at something that is still so tenuous? 

 

‘I think,’ Minho says, slow and serious. ‘You shouldn’t hold on to this.’

 

‘And this isn’t even because I might want to date you,’ he continues. ‘It just seems like a waste of emotion on something that is so undefined.’

 

‘Maybe you’re right,’ Kibum says.

  
  


_ Of course Minho is right, _ Kibum thinks later, settling down with an assignment. But maybe Kibum doesn’t want to do what’s right. 

 

Jonghyun can only be a friend, he tells himself.  _ Just _ a friend, he repeats emphatically. He brushes his hair out of his face and wishes he could brush his thoughts away just as easily. 

 

When he reaches over to his bookshelf to pull out a reference book, his gaze is snagged by the slim green volume that had been pushed in between two textbooks, almost like an afterthought. Jonghyun’s book, that had been pressed into his hands many many weeks ago. 

 

_ Read it, if you want to?  _

 

Kibum had forgotten all about it, but now a tender smile forms on his lips and he thinks he wants to read it. Some say that in their writing, writers reveal parts of their souls, and maybe he wants to see what he can of Jonghyun’s soul.

 

Jonghyun is just a friend, he tells himself again. But as his fingers gingerly turn the pages of the book, he knows very well that he’s lying.

  
  


The book charts the fall of a relationship, in the point of view of the man who had left. It isn’t a narrative, not really, more like a stream of beautiful poetry; flashes of regret, metaphors of broken love, long spiraling descriptions of loss recognized and loss unnoticed. Jonghyun has the soul of a poet apparently. 

 

It makes Kibum want to peel away Jonghyun’s skin and find out what makes his brain tick. But that’s not what he’s allowed to do.

 

He rises from his seat and pushes open his door, intending to run over with the book and tease Jonghyun a little. But when he pokes his head out, he sees Jonghyun heading to the elevator, hair carefully styled and clothes artfully matched and there’s something that goes cold in his chest.

 

‘Kibum!’ Jonghyun smiles like he’s looking at a star studded sky. 

 

Kibum waves, simultaneously stiff and weak. ‘Hi. You look nice.’ Because Jonghyun does, but Kibum hopes it doesn’t translate to  _ Why am I attracted to you when I can’t have you?  _

 

‘Thanks,’ Jonghyun says, ‘I’m meeting Taemin for dinner.’ He smiles again and Kibum has to push back the words  _ Yeah I kind of guessed.  _ He hopes the twinge he feels in his heart doesn’t get transmitted to his face. 

 

When Jonghyun looks searchingly at him, and draws nearer, Kibum thinks it has. ‘Kibum?’ Jonghyun starts. ‘Are you o-’ 

 

The chime of the elevator is a welcome interruption. 

 

‘You should go,’ he says, pushing Jonghyun towards it. ‘Have fun!’ The stretch of his mouth hurts, and he’s pretty sure he’s waving too hard.

 

When the elevator doors close, Kibum shuts his apartment door and leans back on it, wishing that he could just forget everything; that Jonghyun is out of reach, that Jonghyun belongs to someone else, that without noticing it, somewhere along the line he has allowed himself to care too much. He wishes it doesn’t hurt in a way that makes it hard to breathe. 

 

Kibum shakes his head, once, twice, the way his puppies shake after a bath, as if trying to make the emotions fall away, and strides back to his desk. He reminds himself that he has no time for fanciful thoughts of things that cannot be fulfilled, no time to embark on journeys with no destination. He pushes the book deliberately to the side of his desk, just hidden behind a stack of paper.

 

It shouldn’t feel like he’s been harshly woken up from a daydream.

  
  
  
  


Jonghyun can’t get the twist of Kibum’s face out of his head. It had looked like a reflex; a reflex reaction to the words  _ I’m meeting Taemin for dinner.  _

 

It had looked like a shock of pain. Like someone had grabbed Kibum by the throat out of the blue. And Jonghyun wants to know why the mention of Taemin should hurt Kibum like that. He wants to know what it means.

 

It really shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t be bothered by it, he really shouldn’t care. It should be something he notices and then puts aside, something that shouldn’t rotate in his mind like it’s doing now. But there’s a feeling that is far too close to happiness jumping in his chest at the plausible idea that- 

 

Jonghyun reins in the thought before it deviates somewhere it really shouldn’t go. His thoughts have all fallen into the categories of ‘should’s and ‘should not’s, into what he has to do, needs to do and what he wants to do. And it seems that they are no longer the same. It feels a bit like being torn in half; what he knows he has and should want, and what he thinks he might want  _ instead _ . There are routes he shouldn't let himself wander down, routes that should be marked ‘caution’ and ‘do not enter’. But he’s terrified that he already has. He’s terrified that he might want to keep walking those paths.

 

‘You okay?’ Taemin’s voice breaks into his thoughts. ‘You’ve been in your own world for half of this dinner.’ There’s a tremor in his voice that reveals emotion behind the almost sharp words. 

 

_ I’ve been thinking about Kibum. _ Jonghyun wants to say, but he cannot. Because he loves Taemin and Taemin loves him and this is where he’s supposed to be. Right? He doesn’t want to think about why he doesn’t really believe himself, doesn’t want to think about the dimples that flash on the sides of Kibum’s mouth and the way he laughs, like the world has told a joke only he understands. He doesn’t want to ruin everything he has right now.

 

‘It’s your favourite restaurant,’ Taemin says. ‘But you’re eating like everything tastes like dust.’

 

Jonghyun pulls himself back into his reality; the only one he should want, and slides an apologetic grin onto his face. ‘Just thinking about lyrics to a song,’ he says. 

 

Taemin looks unconvinced and unsure, and Jonghyun thinks suddenly that he’s not the only one.

 

The guilt is still improperly defined, but it feels like a wave of suffocating desert sand.

  
  
  


Jonghyun is lying. 

 

It’s as clear as the sound of raindrops that fall against a windowpane, clear as a hot summer’s day when the sky is so blue it hurts the eyes. Taemin sometimes cannot read the hidden language of human hearts, but with Jonghyun he’s always known how to see, even when Jonghyun himself is blind to his own thoughts. 

 

Was he thinking about Kibum? The boy with the sharp eyes and wicked smile who is never really far from his thoughts now. The boy who Jonghyun looks at like the entire world’s beauty is caught in the angles of his body. Jongin says he can reel him back but sometimes Taemin thinks it’s an impossible task.

 

‘Write me a song,’ Taemin tells Jonghyun. And he almost laughs when Jonghyun looks at him with surprise. ‘You used to write for me all the time.’ 

 

‘I’ll think of something!’ Jonghyun promises, eyes soft and sincere, and it makes Taemin want to believe him. 

 

_ You used to tell me I was your muse. _ It’s a thought he refuses to let linger for too long.

  
  
  


But after that, Jonghyun comes back to him, like it’s a decision he has made, to only look at Taemin. And the date is the easiest one in a while, like all the clouds have dissipated, and sunlight has pushed away the negativity. Taemin lets himself relax, lets himself laugh, lets himself respond to the soft touches that Jonghyun gives him. He has him back; doting, attentive Jonghyun, who treats him like he’s the most precious on the surface of the earth. Like he used to, before Kibum. Before he had looked over Taemin’s shoulders and seen the end of his string. Looped around someone else’s little finger. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. And it seems like all they’ve been doing for the past few weeks since Kibum stepped out of that elevator into their lives, is circling ‘should’s and ‘should not’s, ‘want’s and ‘want not’s; what Jonghyun thinks he should want, what Kibum might want, and what Taemin wants to keep.

 

It’s been exhausting.

 

So it’s nice, to just sit in the company of his favourite person in the world, and laugh about the day. It’s something they haven’t done for a while. It’s like he can breathe again, after spending too long in near suffocation.

 

He nearly forgets entirely about Kibum. 

 

Right until he asks Jonghyun if he wants to stay over, and looks up to see a flash of hesitation and reluctance in the depths of Jonghyun’s irises. Gone almost as quickly as it had arrived. He doesn’t think Jonghyun even registers it, but it’s enough for Taemin to see and understand. 

 

‘Sure,’ Jonghyun says, just barely on the next beat, and he smiles. 

 

It’s a beautiful smile; but Taemin feels something in his chest shatter. 

  
  
  


It’s easy to pull Jonghyun closer, when it’s dark and it’s silent, when he can pretend that Jonghyun’s eyes only see him; that Jonghyun’s heart only holds him. It’s easy to release the doubts and insecurities into the blackness that settles around them and pretend that all that matters is the flesh and the sweat and the cries that curl out of throats. 

 

There is an almost frantic desperation in the way Taemin pulls at Jonghyun’s shirt, at the way he claws at the buttons. And Jonghyun laughs low, sound muffled by his lips against Taemin’s neck. ‘We have time, babe,’ he says softly. But Taemin thinks suddenly, with a strange clashing sense of clarity,  _ No, we don’t. We don’t.  _

 

It feels like a ticking timer at the back of his mind, a countdown to when they’ll end. And somehow he knows it’ll happen, sooner rather than later; whatever he does, whatever Jonghyun says. So Taemin closes his eyes and forgets himself to Jonghyun’s fingers and tongue, to sensations and touch, to heat and sweat, and everything he knows he will lose. He traces the planes of Jonghyun’s back, the lean muscles of his limbs, the peaks and dips of his body, tries to use his hands to etch sensory touch into long term memory. In the dim light of the moon streaming through the cracks in the curtains, he sees Jonghyun looking at him with a beautiful liquid softness in his gaze and it makes Taemin want to cry. 

 

_ Why can’t I keep you?  _ He wants to say.  _ Why can’t you be wholly mine? I could have loved you forever. But I cannot now. _

 

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he slides down Jonghyun’s body, looking up at him with an almost smirk and touches his tongue to the tip of Jonghyun’s cock. ‘Taem.’ Jonghyun breathes out his name like a lullaby. Taemin decides he’ll  _ make _ Jonghyun forget, even if he himself cannot.

 

When he traces his tongue up the underside of Jonghyun’s cock, Jonghyun judders and jerks, a sigh falling from his lips. Taemin laughs despite himself. ‘Sensitive, are we?’ Any reply is lost to a long groan when Taemin takes the head of Jonghyun’s cock into his mouth, tongue sliding up the slit and over and around. And it’s easy, falling into moves he knows by heart; moving up and taking more of Jonghyun’s cock into his mouth, sucking hard until Jonghyun’s fingers twist into his hair, hips jerking as if pulled by unseen strings, until all the sound that remains is the blabbering musical noises that emit from Jonghyun’s throat.

 

And Taemin wants this, wants to remind Jonghyun of what they are, how they fit together, that he knows exactly how to curl his tongue to make Jonghyun mewl and cry, that he knows exactly what to do to make Jonghyun fall apart, loose limbs and breathless moans.

 

‘I love you,’ Jonghyun says, voice raw and rough. And Taemin knows, in that moment, he means it.

 

‘I love you, too,’ he whispers back. 

 

Jonghyun kisses him, hard, licking up his own come on the edges of Taemin’s mouth, and rolls them over.

 

_ I want to love you as long as I can. _

 

Later that night, when they press into each other and cry out, Taemin tries to catch the fading sounds, and holds them as close as he can until they disappear. 

  
  


Jonghyun leaves early the next morning to meet his editor, and he brushes lips across Taemin’s forehead. ‘Call you later?’ he says. And Taemin nods mutely, still swaddled up in all the blankets. He resists the urge to pull Jonghyun back by the collar into the bed with him. To keep him as long as possible. ‘You look like a baby,’ Jonghyun whispers, fond smile tugging at his mouth. Taemin cracks a tiny grin, and pulls Jonghyun in to kiss him on the mouth. 

  
  


When Jongin wakes up later that day, Taemin is still lying in bed, eyes open, trying to drown himself in the scent of Jonghyun. 

 

‘Boyfriend left early?’ Jongin quips. And when Taemin says nothing in reply, eyes still staring holes in the wall across the bed, he sits on the edge of the bed, as solemn as if visiting a hospital room. 

 

‘I’m losing him,’ Taemin says quietly. ‘He doesn’t know it yet, but I do.’ 

 

He turns to look at Jongin. ‘Is it okay if I keep holding on until it’s all over?’

 

Jongin doesn’t reply, just leans over and wraps arms around Taemin. There’s perhaps nothing he can say that will convince Taemin of another truth. There’s perhaps nothing anyone can say anymore. 

  
  
  
  


Life takes strangely angled turns when we least expect it.

Kibum lets out a heavy sigh, wisps of breath visible in the cold air. He doesn’t like surprises, doesn’t like life to take a step out of the pattern that he’s set it in. It feels…dangerous, like free falling out a plane into empty air with no harness.

But he supposes that when the twist arrives there’s often little you can do but turn and bend along with the change. He’s twisted and bent often enough in his own life.

Minho’s expression when he told Kibum had been pinched and reluctant, but he supposes that there are often points in life where you need to think about yourself and your family first.

 

_ ‘Kibum,’ Minho said, just as Kibum walked into the cafe. His expression is too serious, and it almost scares Kibum. _

 

_ ‘Yes, that’s my name,’ Kibum drawled, deliberately casual, and drew closer to where Minho was sitting, at the table just in front of the counter. His grin faltered when Minho looked up with his own far too nervous smile. _

 

_ ‘I don’t want to do this,’ Minho grit out. And when Kibum’s face scrunched up, he reached out to curl fingers loosely around Kibum’s wrist. ‘The lease is out next month,’ Minho said softly. ‘And my parents have decided not to renew.’ _

 

_ ‘Or well, we’ve all decided; my brother, myself, them,’ He continued. ‘It’s not making much of a profit anymore, and it would really be better if they just stopped worrying about it. We can provide for them, they don't need this.’ _

 

_ Kibum stayed quiet, hoping that if he said nothing, there wouldn’t be a sense of something solid falling away from under his feet. _

 

_ ‘I’m sorry,’ Minho said, sighing. ‘I know you need this job.’ _

 

_ I don’t, Kibum thought. Not really. I just want it because I don’t like feeling like I could run out of money. _

 

_ But it was too complicated to explain, and it wasn’t fair on Minho. _

 

_ ‘It’s okay,’ he said instead. ‘I’ll find something else.’ _

 

And so here he is, on the road on a Sunday morning, looking out for ‘Help Wanted’ ads posted on the windows of businesses. Looking for that something else.

 

_ I’m sorry >.<, _ Minho texts. And Kibum can’t help but smile.

 

‘ _ I’ll miss you,’ he told Minho as he left that last day the week before. _

 

_ Minho sent him a lopsided grin. ‘Please don’t give me false hope,’ he teased.  _ _ And before Kibum could answer. ‘I’ll still see you around, you won’t get rid of me too easily.’ _

 

_ ‘Good luck with the soulmate.’ _

 

_ Kibum laughed. ‘I’ll need the luck,’ he said. _

 

Because he still can’t forget that strange drop of his insides at the sight of Jonghyun on the way to meet Taemin. And it has resulted in him avoiding Jonghyun’s company for the two weeks since. Even though there’s something about Jonghyun that makes it hard to breathe, it’s not something he intends to pursue. Not something he  _ should _ pursue, even if his traitorous mind wanders there once in awhile. He has never been the kind of person who cheated, and he sure isn’t going to start now, soulmate or not.

When had his life gotten this frustrating?

 

There’s a sign in the corner of the road, in the window of what looks like an acoustic live music lounge. And there’s laughter tripping over the tip of Kibum’s tongue, because he wants to apply, wants to turn his life upside down, since it’s already as messy as he doesn’t want. It would mean turning his schedule inside out, working nights instead of day, blinking away tiredness on Monday mornings. It’s crazy.

But he walks in anyway.

  
  


There’s a new person standing at the bar when Jonghyun walks in for his gig the next Saturday night. And he doesn’t quite pay attention, because he’s been thinking too much these days; thinking about life, and love, the smile that Kibum has mysteriously been keeping away from him, and the smile that no longer reaches Taemin’s eyes. Some days it feels a little bit like the love he thought he always understood is wavering right in front of him, and some days he thinks he might know why. It’s an impasse, neither of them willing to break first. He thinks he’s hiding from something that’s glaring almost too bright into his face, and eventually he won’t be able to hide any longer.

 

A shallow, s hocked intake of breath reaches his ears as he passes the bar, and from the corner of his eye, he could swear he sees the new person almost duck beneath the counter. Jonghyun turns in the direction with a laugh bubbling to his lips and comes face to face with very awkward Kibum. The laugh gets lodged firmly in his throat.

 

‘Are you stalking me?’ He asks, the teasing words dropping too instinctively from his mouth, and his smile floats back up when Kibum raises a single eyebrow in incredulity.

 

‘I think  _ you’re _ stalking me,’ he replies. Jonghyun doesn’t want to acknowledge the drop of a weight from his heart when Kibum sends a tiny, tentative smile his way.

 

‘I was here first,’ Jonghyun says, and sticks out his tongue.

 

‘Child,’ Kibum remarks and rolls his eyes, but it’s without heat.

 

‘Are we still friends?’ Jonghyun asks. And it’s a childish kind of question, but a question he has to ask anyway. The slight emphasis on the word ‘friends’ is not something he intends to think about.

 

‘Yeah,’ Kibum says. ‘Friends.’ And Jonghyun doesn’t miss the stress  _ Kibum _ puts on the word as well.

 

‘You were avoiding me,’ Jonghyun accuses.

 

‘I’m a busy person!’ But there’s an almost shrinking of Kibum’s shoulders away from Jonghyun, something he doesn’t quite want to press.

 

‘How did you learn to make drinks?’ Jonghyun asks instead. And Kibum blows out an audible sigh of relief. It’s almost like there’s a jagged edge to their friendship that they have to keep dancing away from.

 

‘Remember how after he lost his job, my father had to do odd jobs? This was one of them.’ Jonghyun listens as Kibum talks about his family, about the way his father had researched into and learnt the skills from an old school friend who had taken pity on him. ‘When you need money, you do anything,’ Kibum says. And his smile is too strained on the edges. Jonghyun thinks about reaching over and pulling him into a hug, thinks about promising him a future that isn’t so exhausting, thinks about making him happy, taking his loneliness and hiding it away. He doesn’t know why he wants to make these declarations, or why Kibum tugs out such emotions from him. And a feeling that is both guilt and wonder melded together builds in his chest.

 

Jonghyun loves Taemin. But there’s something that is being smothered, and not quite with his permission. He lets himself smile as he listens to Kibum talk, and wonders if friendship can be enough.

 

‘What am I  _ doing _ ?’ Kibum hisses at himself, when Jonghyun leaves to set up his stage. It’s too easy just to talk to him, too easy to slide back into that simple camaraderie they had, too easy to pretend that the tenderness in Jonghyun’s soft gaze could lead to something precious he can keep. They’re friends, that’s all. And it shouldn’t matter that it’s all they can be.

 

He ought to have built up barriers, ought to have cemented each crack, but Jonghyun had long gotten past them, and even though he wants to, Kibum suspects that’s an opening he doesn’t actually want to close.

 

‘You’re friends with him?’ The female bartender asks, curiosity lacing her voice. Her name is Krystal, he reminds himself.

 

‘Yeah,’ Kibum replies. ‘He’s my neighbour.’

 

‘He’s got an amazing voice,’ she tells him.

 

‘Well, I guess I’ll see,’ Kibum says, because he doesn't actually want to talk about Jonghyun.

 

‘He’s hot too,’ she continues. Her gaze lands on him, too searching. ‘At least that's what customers always tell me. They're always so sad when I tell them he has a boyfriend.’

 

Kibum wishes she would shut up.

 

Jonghyun is attractive in a way that makes people double take, but Jonghyun on stage singing to the accompaniment of an instrument is something that makes Kibum’s pulse tremble in his throat.

 

‘What the hell,’ Kibum grumbles aloud, at the sight Jonghyun’s thin shirt unbuttoned far too low. He has always thought Jonghyun good-looking, and as he pushed under his skin and gotten past the natural barriers, has wanted to love and understand his heart. The frisson of physical desire that often sparks has been something Kibum has always been able to shove aside. So the sudden liquid wave of want takes him by surprise. He wants to run his hand down Jonghyun’s chest and pop the remaining shirt buttons one by one.

 

_ Fuck _ , he thinks. Then he laughs to himself, tasting bitterness on his tongue. In another world, Jonghyun would be perfect; but in this world, he’s still out of reach.

 

He closes his eyes and listens to Jonghyun sing, tries to use the music to distract himself.

 

If someone asked him later to describe Jonghyun’s voice, he wouldn’t have words for it. It’s the kind of voice someone could fall in love with, the voice on the radio you’d put your heart on hold for. Jonghyun sings like his heart is on offer, like every emotion could be given up to the listener if they’d only care to take them. The kind of voice you want to keep listening to, like the very sound will make life that much easier.

 

Kibum hears his heart beating too loud in his ears and he knows he is so so screwed.

  
  


‘So did you like it?’ Jonghyun says, when he comes by after his first set is complete.

 

‘Why do you need my opinion?’ Kibum replies.

 

‘Mean,’ Jonghyun grouses. ‘So mean.’

 

Kibum shakes his head, half-smiling. ‘Your voice is incredible,’ he says quietly, eyes flicking up to meet Jonghyun’s.

 

Jonghyun says nothing in return, just smiles back. And it feels like something tenuous is stretching its vines between their smiles.

  
  


‘What are you still doing here?’ Kibum asks, amused, when he walks past a table near the stage about an hour later. It’s near closing time and most people have already left. Jonghyun looks down at his mug and shrugs.

 

‘Just thinking,’ he says.

 

‘About?’ Kibum slides into the booth next to him.

 

‘Life. Love. Confusion.’

 

‘That’s a weird combination of words.’

 

There’s something fragile about Jonghyun in this present moment. Something that Kibum wants to scoop up and keep safe.

 

‘Just being silly,’ Jonghyun says eventually, long breath escaping his lips. ‘How’s work?’

 

Kibum laughs. ‘I’m  _ at _ work,’ he says.

 

‘Go home, Jonghyun,’ he says gently. ‘Put on more clothes. This outfit is kind of...revealing.’

 

In a bid to change the atmosphere, Kibum leans over and pinches the v-shape where the shirt hangs open on Jonghyun’s chest. ‘You should button up more,’ Kibum says, and when his fingers twist to catch a button, they brush over the bare skin of Jonghyun’s chest. Jonghyun goes eerily still under Kibum’s fingertips, and Kibum can swear he hears both their heartbeats like thunder in his ears. There’s heat crawling up the back of his neck, and something inside him is whispering warnings. He thinks that maybe this carefree teasing has shifted in a way that he hadn’t, but probably should have, expected.

 

‘Kibum,’ Jonghyun whispers, his voice low.

 

‘I-’ Of their own accord, his hands have shifted flat against Jonghyun’s chest. And before he can remove them like he should, Jonghyun pulls him forward.

 

There’s a small part of him screaming  _ mistake mistake _ , but he thinks maybe it’s a part he’s willing to ignore for just a while. Jonghyun’s mouth is soft and insistent against his, like he’s looking for an answer to a question Kibum doesn’t know. His arms slide around Kibum’s waist and pulls him closer, and his tongue traces the seam of Kibum’s lips. Kibum sighs and tilts his head and lets Jonghyun deepen the kiss. His hands move slowly down Jonghyun’s chest to fiddle with the buttons and push open his shirt further. The soft moan that Jonghyun lets out as Kibum’s fingers trace the outlines of his stomach muscles makes something in Kibum’s gut quiver. It feels like it’s meant, like they fit together, two halves to a whole.  

 

It feels like it’s how life should be. And that’s exactly why Kibum comes back to his senses; just as Jonghyun’s fingers trace their way up Kibum’s spine and his mouth moves to Kibum’s neck. His fingers clench into the material of Jonghyun’s shirt and he pushes away. There’s a long, lingering whine that escapes Jonghyun and it makes Kibum want to go back and pull more sounds out of him, cover his body in marks and brands.

 

‘You have a boyfriend,’ Kibum says instead, his voice hoarse. He watches as Jonghyun comes to the same realization, as a sort of conflicted despair wells up in his face.

 

‘Fuck,’ Jonghyun says, sounding almost broken. ‘Fuck.’ His hands tighten on Kibum’s hipbones.

 

‘You have a boyfriend,’ Kibum repeats. And this time the sound is almost mournful.

 

‘That...is currently up for debate,’ a voice from just opposite them responds. A voice that definitely isn’t Jonghyun’s.

  
  


Jonghyun knows this voice.  It’s a voice he’s heard in many forms; breathless with mirth, bright with excitement, glowing with joy, dulled and grey with sadness, spent and exhausted, lazily calling him back to bed. It’s a voice he loves. But he’s never quite heard it like this; hard and brittle, like a mere touch will make it collapse into dust scattered across the tiled floor. And when he releases Kibum and looks up at Taemin, his face is just as hard, just as brittle. Like all the joy in him has dried up and disappeared. There’s a smile that is on his face, but it’s stiff and faded.

 

‘Can you leave?’ Taemin says, turning to Kibum, and his voice is quiet and overly polite. There’s a part of Jonghyun that wants Taemin to scream and rage; like he had that one time, instead of this cold resigned calmness.

 

Kibum opens his mouth as if to say something, then seems to reconsider it, choosing instead to nod and leave.

 

Jonghyun’s eyes follow Kibum as he walks back to the bar, and there’s a slump to Kibum’s back he doesn’t like. Guilt twines up his throat and makes it hard to breathe.

 

When he turns back to Taemin, he sees something close to pain on the edges of his icy mask, and Jonghyun wonders how he had managed to make everything this messed up.

  
  
  


Perhaps he should have expected it. Their time together was tied to a countdown timer, a ticking bomb; it would all have blown up eventually, a matter of time. He just hadn’t expected it to be like this. 

 

_ He had gone to see Jonghyun on a whim, after there was no answer to his calls. He used to smile at that, laugh about his boyfriend whose world sometimes didn’t coincide with other people’s. He used to like pulling Jonghyun back into reality, think about methods to do that. But he knew now that the thoughts Jonghyun had were too often about a boy Taemin didn’t want to know about. Sometimes he thought maybe he was working too hard at trying to save something that didn’t want to be saved.  _

 

_ When he made his way into the lounge, it was near closing time, and quiet. And he realized that he hadn’t gone to see Jonghyun in a while, hadn’t gone to watch him sing. Somewhere along the way the bonds between them had loosened.  _

 

_ ‘Here to see Jonghyun?’ Krystal asked, smiling one of her rare smiles. Krystal had worked there for as long as Jonghyun had sung there, and had somehow became friends with Taemin. She loved to coo at them. _

 

_ Taemin smiled back. ‘Where is he?’ _

 

_ ‘Last I saw, he was over...oh.’ There was something like shock and uneasiness that wandered across Krystal’s face, her eyes focussed on a spot just over and to the left of Taemin’s shoulder. _

 

_ Taemin’s smile turned quizzical and he moved to look in the direction, but Krystal stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. ‘I really don’t think you should.’ There was warning in her expression.  _

 

_ He turned anyway, determined to see whatever it was that made her face look so alarmed. Jonghyun was there, but he wasn’t alone. He had his arms wrapped around Kibum, and their lips were pressed together, limbs tangled, eyes closed. It felt like a single icepick pushed through Taemin’s heart. He had expected something like that to happen eventually, but perhaps hadn’t expected it to feel like everything in him was breaking all at once.  _

 

_ He slid across to the seats opposite them just as Kibum pulls away from Jonghyun.  _

 

_ ‘You have a boyfriend,’ Kibum whispered, and Taemin found himself pleased at the obvious guilt ringing through the words.  _

 

_ ‘Fuck,’ Jonghyun said, voice tripping over the word. ‘Fuck.’ Taemin thought if everything hadn’t already frozen, he could have laughed at the conflict in his voice.  _

 

_ ‘You have a boyfriend,’ Kibum repeated. It sounded like a sob. _

 

_ ‘That…..is up for debate,’ Taemin took the opportunity to interject.  _

 

_ And smiled when they looked up at him, mirrored expressions of terror. _

 

When Kibum walks away, Jonghyun’s eyes track his movements like a magnet to a metal pole, and it is in that moment Taemin knows there is no longer anything he wants to or can save. Jonghyun had looked at him like that once, like all the stars in the galaxy were caught in his one body. Jonghyun had looked at him like Taemin was his world. He wonders if it’s the red string that had undone them, or if it’s Jonghyun himself. If it’s just fate that is playing her cruel game; if it was something they couldn’t have avoided, no matter how much they loved each other. 

 

‘I’m sorry,’ Jonghyun blurts out. 

 

Taemin waits, but no explanation comes. And he suspects that Jonghyun doesn’t really have the answers either. 

 

‘Aren’t you going to say it was a mistake?’ He asks, and it sounds rhetorical, because they both know it wasn’t. Not really. 

 

‘It...wasn’t,’ Jonghyun admits, defeated. ‘I think I’ve wanted to do that for a while.’And I know it’s despicable, but there it is.’

 

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, almost helpless.

 

The words sway in the wind between them, as if waiting for one of them to say something to destroy the stalemate. 

 

Taemin sucks in a shallow breath, reaches out his hand and curls fingers over Jonghyun’s hand. ‘I don’t like uncertainty,’ he says slowly. ‘And I think it’s time to say goodbye.’ 

 

He knows when he tells Jongin later, his best friend will accuse him of being too kind. But perhaps this is the only way he knows how to end it. He doesn’t wait for Jonghyun’s reply, just stands up and walks away.

  
  
  
  
  


Krystal looks at Kibum with scorn when he gets back to the bar. 

 

‘I didn’t think you were  _ that _ kind of person,’ she says, words sharp. 

 

Kibum knows there’s no point in any explanations or to mention that it was Jonghyun who had pulled him in, who had kissed him like the answers to the world’s questions were kept in his mouth. He touches the tip of his finger to his bottom lip, remembers the way Jonghyun had sucked at it, and realizes that somewhere deep inside, he isn’t that sorry it happened at all. 

 

‘They are such a cute couple, you know?’ Krystal continues, unheeding of Kibum’s silence. ‘Why did you do that?’

 

Kibum pauses in the washing of the glass in his hand, and pins her with a stare. ‘Sometimes, things aren’t as straightforward as you think they are.’ And he knows that it’s neither an explanation nor a defense. But it’s the truth. 

 

‘What do you mean?’ She asks, disdain breaking a little into curiosity. But he doesn’t reply her. Instead he watches the table as Taemin reaches over to squeeze Jonghyun’s hand and then gets up to leave, watches as Jonghyun’s fingers spread over his face and he crumples into the seat. He looks lost, and Kibum’s chest aches. He wants to go over, but thinks that maybe he is the last person that would help at this point. 

 

When Taemin walks past, his eyes are hollow, and his smile is cold. 

 

‘You ruined them,’ Krystal hisses. 

 

Kibum doesn’t answer. 

 

Jonghyun stays there, lost in thought, until the lounge has to close. Krystal elects herself to go let him know, muttering something under her breath that Kibum doesn’t bother to pay attention to. Jonghyun looks up with an expression that is incomprehensible, and his gaze wanders over to Kibum. There’s still a soft light there, a light that Kibum hadn’t thought would still shine, and he strides deliberately up to Kibum. 

 

‘Can we talk?’ Jonghyun’s voice is gentle, and so is his gaze.

 

Kibum’s heart jumps to his throat. 

  
  
  
  


_ Jongin might be psychic, _ Taemin thinks, when he gets home and Jongin is sitting on the couch, still awake, peering at the door with a sort of worry. 

 

‘I had a strange feeling there was something wrong,’ Jongin says. ‘But you’re safely home so I guess that was just-’ He cuts himself off at the sight of Taemin’s pinched smile. ‘Are you okay?’ 

 

Taemin drops onto the couch next to Jongin, and lets his head fall onto Jongin’s shoulder. ‘Not really,’ he says. 

 

They sit in silence for a while, and Taemin lets the stress and pain slowly unwind themselves from his shoulders. It’s nice, here with Jongin. Comforting. He lets out a quiet sigh. 

 

‘I broke up with him today.’

 

Jongin says nothing in reply, lets the sentence drop into the well of silence formed between them.

 

‘I thought I would cry,’ Taemin continues. ‘But I haven’t. I can’t. It’s like all the tears have frozen. It was over a long time ago, I just never wanted to notice. God, I hate this thread.’ His fingers attempt to pluck at the red string knotted around his little finger. ‘It doesn’t matter. I mean,  _ I _ don’t know who my soulmate is, and I’ve never bothered to look. Why should it matter what a thread says. You can be happy with anyone. A relationship needs work. Not some magic string!’  

 

‘Do you ever think about who  _ your  _ soulmate is?’ 

 

The off topic question makes Jongin flinch almost involuntarily, and Taemin’s interest spikes. 

 

‘Do you  _ already  _ know?’ He wants to latch on to something else, to think about something else, something besides the look in Jonghyun’s eyes when Kibum walks past, and the way he had held onto Kibum, like he was something precious he didn’t want to let go off. Taemin cannot cry, but it hurts, hurts like he’s been eviscerated, like he hadn’t expected it to.

 

‘I don’t think now is the right time to talk about that,’ Jongin says, evading Taemin’s eyes. 

 

‘Distract me, Jongin.’ Taemin demands. 

 

Something dark leaks into Jongin’s gaze and it almost scares Taemin. Then it dissipates, almost as if Jongin had purposefully swept it away. ‘Taemin,’ he says, voice serious and soft, and he pushes their hands together, their pinkie fingers barely touching. ‘Look.’ 

 

Taemin’s face twists into a quizzical expression but he looks, as Jongin had requested. And there between their pinkie fingers, he sees the red string coiled, beginning at Jongin’s and ending at his own. 

 

‘ _ Oh, _ ’ Taemin says, voice soft with a sort of surprise.

 

Jongin’s smile is wry. ‘Yeah.’

 

‘When did you realize? And how come I never did? I see you every day!’

 

‘You just don’t pay attention, Tae,’ Jongin says. ‘I noticed about one week before Jonghyun started that temporary receptionist post at the dance school, and was going to tell you on the day you told me you had gotten a date.’  

 

Taemin doesn’t say anything. There’s something lingering between Jongin’s words, something unsaid. 

 

Jongin laughs self-deprecatingly. ‘I thought the thread would be a help in getting me a date.’ He says it almost like a confession.    
  


And there it is. Taemin feels a pressure in his chest. 

 

‘I can’t,’ he blurts out. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t even  _ think _ about this right now. I-’

 

Jongin smiles gently, and pulls Taemin into a loose hug. ‘I know,’ he says tenderly. ‘I just wanted you to know someone cares.’

 

There’s something warm in Jongin’s smile and touch that loosens the tangle in Taemin’s chest and melts the ice crystals frozen around his heart. When he starts crying suddenly, it feels like a relief, like letting go of a burden, and as Jongin’s arms tighten around him, he thinks, maybe he’ll survive everything. Just like this. 

  
  
  
  


‘It’s time to say goodbye,’ Taemin says. And it does sound like goodbye, like regret, soft sadness, falling around them like too much snow. 

 

It’s so cold. 

 

Who knew it would end like this? So quiet; in a whisper that could have been lost in a stray gust of wind. Everything they had been to each other washed cleanly away. Jonghyun thinks he knows what his lines should be, the pleas and the desperate begging. He thinks that if he pressed, pleaded, debased himself, that maybe- But he doesn’t, because there’s a definite certainty in the way Taemin’s fingers drop away from his hand, an exhausted resignation. And maybe Jonghyun is tired too. Of trying to mould his heart into a shape it doesn’t want to stay in anymore.

 

Taemin leaves before Jonghyun can say anything in reply, as if he doesn’t actually expect a reply. As if he doesn’t want one; agreement or argument. As if to him, the conversation was only a footnote to the goodbye they had already been saying for much too long. Destroying something, Jonghyun thinks, can be as simple as a smile given too easily to someone else.

 

The memories come back to him, rushing like a wave of pain. And for a moment he cannot figure out how to make his lungs work, how to breathe. There had been love between them, love that had almost drowned him at one point, love he thought would have lasted a lifetime. 

 

_ The first time Jonghyun had met Taemin, he had been forward and direct, and it had surprised him in a way that he liked. _

 

_ ‘I didn’t know they made receptionists this young and hot.’ The boy that commented was long and lanky, black hair falling into his eyes, and a half smirk ghosting on his mouth that made something curl in Jonghyun’s gut. Jonghyun’s eyes flickered to the boy’s little finger for a bare second, and the fact that the string on it didn’t join to his was only slightly disappointing.  _

 

_ Jonghyun laughed lightly, raising a single eyebrow. ‘Enjoy me while you can then, I’m limited edition.’ _

 

_ When the boy laughed, his eyes crinkled and almost squeezed shut. Jonghyun thought he looked like a child, innocent and beautiful. ‘I’m Taemin,’ the boy said, after he caught his breath. ‘One of the teachers.’ _

 

_ ‘I’m Jonghyun, receptionist for six months.’ _

 

_ ‘Nice to meet you.’ _

 

_ Taemin was dangerous, and Jonghyun learned that early in their friendship. There were too many facets of him that seemed to contrast and oppose. Facets that only made Jonghyun want to dig deeper and find out more. The innocent, childlike one who scrambled up to him worried about a lost wallet, the smirking knowing flirt who leaned against his desk and distracted him, the breathtaking dancer with limbs so fluid he didn’t seem human, and the bumbling ineloquent bashful guy who stuttered out a request for a date three weeks after they first met.  _

 

_ He probably should have said no. Jonghyun had dreams; idealistic, silly dreams, of holding out for the one who was bound to him by that scarlet string, searching the world for that one person. And even at 25, when nearly everyone else he knew had chosen to give up on it, to carve a life with whoever held their heart in that moment, his hope hadn’t dimmed. It wouldn’t be fair to whoever he dated, especially if he ended up making them into a placeholder. But Taemin made him want to forget about that elusive, imaginary person who was still so very far from him. Made him think that maybe a string was nothing but an accessory, a suggestion instead of a rule. And when Taemin looked up at him with a cautiously optimistic smile, Jonghyun decided to give up on waiting.  _

 

That Kibum would step into his life two years later and turn his emotions into an overgrown jungle he still doesn’t know how to navigate had been something unexpected. They had made plans; Taemin and him, of moving in together, of looking for a place to buy together, instead of renting; Taemin had joked once about adoption and Jonghyun had nearly said why not? They had a future planned out, written out in what had seemed to be permanent ink, and somehow, Jonghyun had managed to erase it. 

 

‘Kibum,’ he says aloud. And the taste on his tongue is both sweet and bitter. Is it possible to want someone so much and yet wish you had never ever met them?

 

The clearing of a throat in his ear brings him back abruptly to the present. He turns to see Krystal staring down at him, arms folded. And the stoicism of her expression is almost intimidating. ‘We’re closing, you need to go.’ Before Jonghyun can reply, she starts talking again, icy facade melting into the friend he has always known her to be. ‘Go make up with Taemin,’ she says, her voice encouraging. ‘You had something amazing. Don’t let  _ him _ destroy it.’

 

Jonghyun is startled at the direction of the thoughts that her words reveal, and his short laugh is low and mocking. ‘You think he seduced me,’ he says wonderingly. His eyes slide over to where Kibum is packing up at the bar, and something heavy, but warm, prickles in his chest. ‘He didn’t start anything I didn’t want to continue,’ Jonghyun tells her. ‘But, to set the record straight, I started most of this. So don’t blame him.’ There are questions in Krystal’s eyes he doesn’t plan to answer. Instead, he strides past her and up to Kibum. ‘Can we talk?’ he asks.

 

The way Kibum’s head jerks up and his eyes widen makes him look like a scared animal. ‘I won’t bite,’ Jonghyun whispers, half-jokingly. ‘Unless you want me to.’ Kibum snorts, but an involuntary smile twists on his mouth. 

 

‘Why would I want your teeth anywhere near me?’ he responds. And Jonghyun remembers the sharp gasp Kibum had emitted when he had nipped at his lower lip, and something hot pools in his stomach. When Kibum’s eyes dart away from his, and pink dusts his cheekbones, he knows Kibum is remembering too. Jonghyun wants to a right to kiss Kibum whenever he wants, to push against him and have the satisfaction of knowing the sounds the fall from his mouth are due to him. He wants so much he knows he shouldn’t have wanted.

 

‘If this is the kind of talking you were suggesting,’ Kibum says, interrupting Jonghyun’s mental battle. ‘I don’t think you need permission for it.’ Jonghyun laughs, pushing down the almost undeniable desire, and grips Kibum’s wrist in his hand. 

 

‘Let’s walk,’ he says, and waves to Krystal with his free hand.

 

It takes twenty minutes to walk from the lounge back to their apartment block, and despite Jonghyun’s determination, he can’t actually find the words; instead he asks Kibum about his work day. Perhaps Kibum realizes, because he doesn’t pry. He tells Jonghyun about the drunk customers that try to pick him up, and the ones who tell him their life stories. He tells Jonghyun about accidentally mixing wrong drinks and the way Krystal’s eyes roll up when she informs him. They laugh about Krystal’s aura of indifference, and the cold blast of air that seems to make itself visible around her. ‘She hates me,’ Kibum says, as they round the corner to their block. There’s a beat of silence like he’s contemplating his next words. Then he continues. ‘It was okay at the start but now she thinks I’m a homewrecker.’ 

 

Jonghyun freezes, recognizing Kibum’s attempt to bring the conversation back to what they need to talk about. ‘What did you want to talk to me about, Jonghyun?’ The question is unnervingly gentle.

 

‘Taemin broke up with me,’ he blurts out. ‘After he saw us.’

 

‘Oh,’ Kibum says. Silence descends again, thick and choking.

 

They are almost at their level before Kibum speaks again. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

 

‘It’s not your fault,’ Jonghyun replies. ‘It’s mostly mine actually.’

 

Kibum shakes his head. ‘It takes two hands to clap,’ he says. ‘And two mouths to kiss.’ 

 

Jonghyun is relieved when the elevator beeps its arrival at their floor, because there’s a sensory memory of the kiss on the front of his mind, and he wants to press Kibum against the wall and lose everything in the taste of his mouth and tongue.

 

And when he catches a momentary unguarded look in Kibum’s eyes, he thinks maybe it wouldn’t be entirely unwelcome.

  
  
  
  


Kibum is glad to get home, to get away from the words Jonghyun keeps trying to say, but can’t seem to get out. He doesn’t know if he wants to find out what exactly Jonghyun wants to say, doesn’t want to know what he really thinks about what happened. And Kibum’s turning the key in his lock when the words do come out. ‘I’m sorry I kissed you,’ Jonghyun says, words crashing into each other in their haste to escape his tongue.

 

The door has never quite seemed so fascinating, and Kibum thinks maybe staring at the wood would be preferable to trying to talk about that one stupid, amazing kiss. ‘Don’t be,’ he says finally, eyes still pinned to the door. ‘I enjoyed it.’

 

‘Kibum,’ Jonghyun starts. ‘That’s not what I meant. I-’

 

‘Why does it have to mean anything?’ Kibum interrupts, looking up. Jonghyun looks so apologetic it’s almost aggravating. ‘It was just a kiss. Mouth against mouth, lips to lips. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Like this....thing around our fingers. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Go back, apologize to Taemin. Tell him it was a mistake. It doesn’t have to mean anything.’ 

 

It’s either be angry, or cry. And Kibum doesn’t want to cry. Jonghyun’s apology made him feel incredibly small, like a defect in a pristine product, something that spoils beautiful things.

 

‘What if I want it to mean something?’ Jonghyun's reply is soft, but there, clear as day. Kibum can’t pretend he didn’t hear it.

 

‘What are you talking about?’

 

‘I think...I want it to mean something.’ There is conflict in Jonghyun’s expression; conflict, but also something that looks like a deeper emotion, something Kibum can imagine hooking himself to. And despite himself, hope starts to build a tower in his chest. 

 

‘Kibum?’ And Kibum realizes he’s been too silent for too long. There’s a madness that catches hold of him and makes him say the truths he had hidden for too long.

 

‘I like you,’ he admits, and he doesn’t miss the joy that spreads across Jonghyun’s face. ‘But I’m not sure about you.’ The joy dims and disappears.

 

‘Do you like me because of me, or is it because of this string that makes you think we belong together?’ 

 

He takes a step closer to Jonghyun, watching the way his eyes blink, too quick. ‘Do you want me because of me, or do you just think you should, because of this thread wound around my little finger?’ 

 

‘I want you,’ Kibum whispers, and he’s close enough now to see the way Jonghyun’s eyes trace his mouth. ‘But I’m still not sure if you really want me. And I don’t want this to mean something to me in a way that means nothing to you.’

 

‘Go home, Jjong. It’s been a long day, and you just lost someone you love. Don’t offer me things you cannot afford to give.’ He reaches over to touch Jonghyun’s cheek but thinks better of it, turns and walks away.

 

When he gets back into his apartment, it feels like maybe the world has readjusted, that maybe he has let go of something that had been too heavy to carry. That maybe the cards are all on the table, and the next move isn’t his.

  
  
  
  


The door closes firmly behind Kibum, like an emphatic full stop to everything else he had said. Jonghyun laughs weakly; he feels like he’s been swept up in a tornado and deposited some place he hasn’t been to before. 

 

Kibum is nothing but direct and honest. Jonghyun smiles faintly. There had been an implicit accusation between the lines of Kibum’s words, an accusation that if looked at too closely, made him seem frivolous and shallow, someone too idealistic, unable to live in the real world. Someone who could delude himself into believing in a love that wasn’t really there. He supposes he ought to be offended, but he can’t find it in himself to be. Because it’s the truth; that he started to push himself into Kibum’s life because of the red string, that he had felt obligated to be something,  _ anything _ to Kibum. Because he believed in what it meant. 

 

And maybe he had destroyed everything between him and Taemin because of this belief. 

 

Had the red string changed him? Or had this been inevitable? Would he have approached Kibum without its presence? Or would he have continued with Taemin; walking a path into a happy ending, Kibum nothing but a vague presence on the other side of the wall. Perhaps Kibum is right, perhaps he doesn’t really know what he wants, or why he wants it at all.

 

_ I like you. _

_ I want you. _

 

He remembers the certainty and strength behind Kibum’s words, and despite all the questions and doubts whirling in his head, he smiles. There’s something comforting about someone who’s so sure about how he feels. Especially if those feelings were directed at you. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Breakups feel like you’re trying to walk around with a body made of shattered glass. At least that’s what Taemin decides; as he lies in bed one morning. Living just starts to hurt. Breakups are normal, he tries to convince himself. An intrinsic part of existing, little swerves enroute to finding the person you’re meant to be with. Except Taemin doesn’t actually believe in  _ meant to be _ . He thinks love is work, decision, and commitment; choosing someone and then following through. He doesn’t believe in fairy tales. It’s too easy to pass everything off as destiny or fate, too easy to let go when things turn rough, too easy to quit just because it doesn’t fall into the box of happy-ever-after that the world still wants to believe is true. He had wanted to believe in Jonghyun, that the two of them combined could create something beautiful. And for two years, it had been. But Jonghyun had been distracted by a dream of destined lovers, and he had cut that bond. Maybe he would regret it one day. And maybe Taemin would be glad. But it doesn’t matter now. 

 

Very little seems to matter now.

 

The soft padding of feet alerts him to Jongin. ‘Hey,' Jongin says, settling down next to Taemin on the bed. ‘You okay?’ 

 

‘Stop looking like you’re visiting a prisoner on death row,’ Taemin snaps. 

 

There’s a pause of incredulity before Jongin barks out a laugh.

 

‘Come on, get out of bed. It’s Sunday, there are no classes, there is so much possibility in the air!’ When Jongin twirls like the ballerina he was trained to be, Taemin lets the tiniest of smiles grace his lips. 

 

‘You’re an idiot,’ he announces.

 

‘You would know,’ Jongin says back.

 

And it’s normal, casual, usual. But Taemin’s smile falls off his face. ‘Yeah, I would, wouldn’t I? Only an idiot would hold on to a dead relationship.’

 

‘Tae, don’t.’ Jongin’s tone is stricken now. ‘Don’t hurt yourself for hoping.’ 

 

‘Yeah, hope does that all by itself. It certainly doesn’t need my help.’ 

 

He’s tempted to crawl back into bed and bawl, tempted to turn into the worst cliche of a dumped movie heroine, slide under the covers and never emerge. Let himself drown in underappreciated love. 

 

‘ _ You _ broke up with him.’ Jongin’s voice is a pin that pricks through the bubble of that plan. ‘You broke up with him, Tae. He gave back your heart, he shouldn’t get your tears.’

 

A small part of Taemin wants to point out that Jonghyun had already gotten gallons of his tears, but there is an emotion similar to fury whirling in Jongin’s eyes and he thinks maybe that statement can come at another time. 

 

‘I just,’ Taemin says, softly. ‘I thought it would last.'

 

‘So did I,’ Jongin admits. ‘Much as I hated to think so. You guys were good together.’

 

‘But,’ he continues. ‘You didn’t. So let’s not mope, let’s go play games.’ 

 

And he grasps Taemin’s forearm, tugs him out of bed and pushes him into bathroom. ‘Get ready! We’re meeting Wonshik in thirty minutes at the Internet Cafe.’ 

 

Alone in the bathroom, Taemin peers at his reflection, notes the red eyes and dark shadows under them, and considers slumping down onto the toilet seat and crying.  Instead he finds himself laughing, because from outside he hears Jongin yell again.  ‘No more tears allowed, I’m paying for your time there!’ 

 

The laughter feels strange on his mouth, like hot water thrown onto still healing, still bruised wounds. But water is cleansing, isn’t it? And the laughter feels cleansing too.

  
  


Maybe everyone has their personal miracle, Taemin thinks. And it could be, that Jongin is his. In the months that past, it occurs to him that maybe Jongin has made it a mission of sorts to make sure Taemin isn’t alone long enough to sink back too far into thoughts and memories. 

 

He fills their days with activity, almost attaches himself to Taemin’s elbow, acting more like his shadow than his actual shadow. Runs, gym sessions, trips to the arcade, to the internet cafe, meals with their colleagues, with Taemin’s high school friends, with Jongin’s high school friends, visits to new cafes, testing out of new food, and always, dance. Taemin dances deep into the night sometimes, begs for the time after the lessons end and the school closes to use one studio, to use his body to express his emotions in a way he doesn’t quite know how to, verbally. 

 

And before he quite realizes, three months pass. Three months without Jonghyun. And though there is still a tinge of sadness in the emotion that creeps over Taemin’s thoughts when he thinks of him, the spike of pain isn’t quite so sharp, isn’t quite so breath-stealing. 

 

Life  _ will _ go on, whether you want it to, or not. And despite himself, helped along by Jongin’s fervent will, he too, had just gone on. 

 

It hadn’t been as hard as he had expected it to be.

  
  
  
  


Jonghyun suspects Kibum is avoiding him. No, he  _ knows _ Kibum is avoiding him. 

 

The first Wednesday after breaking up with Taemin, he goes over as he usually does, to pick up Kibum’s puppies. But Kibum opens the door before he can knock, face carefully impassive. ‘I think,’ he begins. ‘You shouldn’t do this anymore.’ 

 

There are words climbing their way up from his heart to his throat, words about how nothing really needs to change, that walking the dogs didn’t have to mean anything, that they shouldn’t penalize the dogs for something they didn’t have any decision in. But he doesn’t get a chance to say them, because Kibum speaks again. ‘I just need to not talk to you for a while,’ he says. There is apology but also determination in his expression and Jonghyun feels a little thrown. 

 

He doesn’t protest. 

 

It’s a strange situation, that he once had two men occupying his heart and mind, and now both have decided he shouldn’t be allowed in the orbit of their lives. It feels like a punishment. But maybe he too needs the time to sort out what’s going on in his heart and mind. And maybe for once, having no one will be easier than having someone.

 

He fills his life with writing, pours feelings and thoughts he still can’t quite understand into music notes and lyrics, creating songs about thwarted dreams and unexpressed desire and the pluck of a heartstring like a concussion of the soul. He writes about falling in love and then falling out of it, breakups like bleak winter mornings when you can’t breathe through the icy cold. He sings at the lounge where Kibum works, sings about soul mates and destiny and misunderstood hearts, and watches Kibum try not to watch him, watches him mix drinks and serve drinks and flash teeth at customers who try to grab his hand. 

 

Even though he wants to, he doesn’t approach Kibum. Because while Kibum has laid his feelings bare, Jonghyun still doesn’t know how much of the leap in his heart is due to true attraction and how much is due to wishful thinking. Kibum deserves honesty, he thinks. And he cannot begin anything if it’s only based on hopeful illusion. 

 

There’s a boy who comes in with Kibum sometimes; tall, handsome, built. Jonghyun hates him on sight. He tells himself it’s because the boy is too tall, and that in his experience tall people were insincere and untrustworthy. But he knows it’s mostly because Kibum smiles at that boy, really smiles, and the too-tight lines that too often make up his face soften almost magically. It reminds Jonghyun of the times Kibum would smile at  _ him _ like that, laugh with him like that. Jonghyun wants it back, wants  _ Kibum _ back, back when it was simpler, when Kibum hadn’t told him the truth, and Taemin hadn’t broken a bit of his heart, and he didn’t have to decide if what he felt was real. He just wants Kibum back, playing with his dogs and laughing at his jokes and directing him on the themes he should write about. It’s an intensity of feeling he doesn’t expect, a kind of loss that bites at his soul.

 

The guy’s name is Minho; Jonghyun finds that out later, from the lips of Minho himself.

 

‘So  _ you _ are Kibum’s soulmate,’ Minho says, after introducing himself, catching Jonghyun in the break between sets. 

 

_ Yes _ Jonghyun wants to say,  _ Kibum’s soulmate who he hasn’t quite looked at or spoken to for about four weeks. _

 

He doesn’t say anything.

 

‘Kind of small, aren’t you,’ Minho comments. And Jonghyun knows it’s meant to be cruel, meant to provoke. 

 

‘What’s it to you?’ Jonghyun responds, deliberately looking away from Minho.

 

‘Oh, just checking out the competition,’ Minho responds airily. And when Jonghyun looks up too quick, too sudden, he laughs, and it isn’t kind.

 

‘See, the thing is,’ he continues, now almost friendly. ‘You aren’t sure about what you feel; but  _ I _ am very sure.’

 

‘This string doesn’t have to mean anything, and I think Kibum agrees.’ There is taunt in Minho’s voice now; taunt that Jonghyun doesn’t know how to respond to. Because it’s true, and he thinks it’s too feasible, that Minho could take Kibum’s heart, even if Kibum had, not too long ago, laid it gently in Jonghyun’s hands.

 

He’s saved from actually having to answer when Kibum comes over to tug at Minho’s elbow. ‘What are you talking about?’ He asks, his tone is not quite friendly, his smile too rigid. ‘You look like you’re trying to fight, and we can’t have Jjong incapacitated, his sets aren’t done!’ As he drags Minho away, Kibun looks back just once to mouth  _ I’m sorry _ in Jonghyun’s direction. 

 

_ I miss you,  _ Jonghyun wants to say.  _ I miss seeing you regularly, I miss eating the food you cook, I miss coming up with ridiculous causes to support, just so you would mock them. Even Roo misses you. I swear she looks at me with disapproval every Wednesday and Friday. I miss you. _

 

But he doesn’t. And Kibum turns away, mouth already moving a mile a minute, snapping words into Minho’s ear. 

 

‘He still calls me Jjong,’ is all Jonghyun can think.

 

He wishes he knew what to do.

  
  
  
  


‘What the  _ fuck, _ Minho?’ Kibum hisses. ‘You looked like you wanted to start a brawl.’

 

‘Maybe I did,’ Minho replies. His smile is far too smug for Kibum’s liking. 

 

‘Leave him alone,’ Kibum says. And despite himself, his voice shakes. Because there had been something oddly vulnerable in Jonghyun’s expression, something terrified, something Kibum still wants to protect.

 

‘Sometimes,’ Minho says, ignoring Kibum, voice almost flip. ‘People need to realize there are other people willing to fill the gap they left behind.’

 

‘What are you talking about?’ He doesn’t think he really wants to know.

 

‘I like you,’ Minho says softly. ‘And I know you don’t feel the same way. But you have to know and  _ he _ has to know, that I do, and I wouldn’t mind giving you everything he can’t.’

 

Kibum wants to dissolve into mist, because he doesn’t want to deal with this, doesn’t want to break a heart. Especially not when his own is still a little cracked. ‘Minho,’ he begins. ‘I can’t-’ 

 

‘I know,’ Minho interrupts. ‘I know where your heart lies. But I just wanted you to know.’ He shrugs as he says it, but it’s too affected, too contrived.

 

‘I should go.’

 

Kibum nods mutely.

 

‘For what it’s worth,’ Minho says, as he gathers his things. ‘When I told him I was competition, he looked like something vital in him had broken into half. So you may not actually have to wait that long.’

 

Kibum looks at him searchingly, and stumbles forward to hug him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, as genuinely as he can  ‘You have to know you’re so important to me, but-’

 

‘Yes, but,’ Minho echoes. ‘But hey, I’ll get over you quickly enough. Don’t you worry.’

 

‘I’m not,’ Kibum retorts. And when Minho laughs, he knows they’ll be okay.

  
  
  


‘Jeez,’ Krystal remarks, once Minho is out of earshot, heading to the exit. ‘Talk about a large puppy trying to mark his territory. Be careful in case he tries to pee on you.’

 

‘Trust me,’ Kibum says wearily. ‘I have no intention of that happening.’

 

When Krystal snickers, Kibum blinks slowly at her. ‘Hey, you’re talking to me again,’ he says, tone amazed.

 

Krystal’s mouth lifts in a tiny guilty smile.  ‘I might have jumped to conclusions. Jonghyun told me he had started most of it. Plus, judging by the  _ incredibly awkward _ atmosphere between the two of you after that happened, I’m guessing that day wasn’t something that was done with ill intent.’

 

Kibum sighs. ‘No, it wasn’t. When I met Jonghyun, he was already with Taemin. And we became friends because of this string. He pretty much demanded to be included in my life. I didn’t mean to actually fall for him, and I think he didn’t intend to either.’

 

‘Not that I actually know how he feels about me, of course,’ he corrects.

 

‘Oh, he  _ definitely _ likes you,’ Krystal says, and her voice is almost teasing. ‘Haven’t you noticed all those annoyingly depressing songs he’s been singing lately. Unrequited love; separated soulmates; broken hearts; unfulfilled desires.’

 

‘I thought it was for Taemin, but sometimes he looks at you, and really, it’s not every day you see so much heart in a gaze. He looks at you like you’re the most beautiful being in the room, the  _ only _ being in the room sometimes.’

 

Kibum glances at her from the side of his eyes, and the snort that was forming fades when he sees the sincerity in her expression. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she continues. ‘I still hate what he did to Taemin. But it really does look like he cares a lot about you. And he needs to figure it out soon because I  _ swear _ if he does another emotional depressing set, I am going to get the boss to  _ kick him out _ .’

  
  
  


It’s 3 a.m. by the time Kibum gets home, but he texts Woohyun anyway, knowing his best friend isn’t the type to sleep early.

 

_ Come onto Skype. _

 

_ It’s 3 a.m. why are you awake? _

 

_ Why are you! I need to talk. Please? _

 

‘You okay?’ Woohyun is pixelated and blurred at the edges, but he’s right there on Kibum’s computer screen, and somehow that makes everything a little better.

 

‘No,’ Kibum says, his head slumping down into his crossed arms. ‘Why can’t everyone be like you? And by that I mean, wouldn’t date me even if I was in the body of the hottest woman on this planet.’

 

‘Hottest woman huh,’ Woohyun muses. ‘I _ might  _ consider that....’ Even through the miles and pixels between them, Kibum can see the mischief in Woohyun’s grin.

 

‘What’s wrong, little Kibummie? Too many boys, no one you want?’

 

‘Two great guys,’ Kibum mumbles. ‘Only one I want.’

 

Woohyun’s right eyebrow shoots up. ‘Why haven’t I heard of this, and does this  _ one _ want you?’ 

 

‘It was weird trying to talk about it over the phone...and I think he does, maybe.’

 

‘And so, the problem is…?’ Woohyun prompts.

 

‘It’s too complicated to explain over video call!’ Kibum exclaims. ‘When are you coming home? Your company said one month, but it’s been nearly a year!’

 

‘Awww, is my Bummie missing me?’ The faux sweetness in Woohyun’s voice could probably curdle milk.

 

‘Fuck, I definitely do  _ not _ miss your cheese and grease.’

 

Woohyun laughs long and loud, and just for a moment Kibum wonders how the people sharing the rented apartment tolerate him.

 

‘I’m flying back in two days actually,’ Woohyun announces. ‘I found out last night and wanted to wait for a  _ sane time _ to tell you, but since you made me call at 3 a.m, I’m telling you now.’

 

‘It’s about time,’ Kibum says, face brightening.

 

‘Now tell me about these two great guys,’ Woohyun says, easy grin lighting on his face.

 

‘You sound like a gossipy grandma,’ Kibum whines. But tells him anyway.

  
  
  


It seems like the entire population has decided to descend upon the airport the day Kibum goes to meet Woohyun. He has to side step three cuddling couples, four children running wild with trolleys and a girl sprinting across the floor like she’s taking part in the hundred meter race.  _ Probably late for her flight, _ Kibum thinks, snickering slightly.

 

When he reaches the arrivals area, he breathes a sigh of relief, dropping into a nearby plastic chair to wait for his best friend. With some luck, Woohyun will take a while to get his luggage and Kibum will have some time to be still before needing to navigate the crowd again. 

 

Kibum has no luck, because as soon as he’s settled into the chair, a hailstorm in the form of Nam Woohyun attacks him. 

 

‘How did you not  _ see  _ me?!’ Woohyun demands. ‘I’ve been looking for you! Worst welcoming party in the history of welcoming parties.’

 

‘I’d forgotten how irritating your voice is when it’s directed straight into my ears,’ Kibum says, before contrasting the words by throwing his arms around Woohyun.

 

‘You  _ love _ me,’ Woohyun says complacently. 

 

‘You might be right,’ Kibum concedes.

 

‘What happened anyway?’ Kibum asks, as they head towards the wing where the restaurants are. ‘Wasn’t it supposed to be just a one month training thing?’

 

‘They did say at  _ least _ one month so I suppose I should have expected this,’ Woohyun explains. ‘There was suddenly so much I just  _ had _ to do while I was there. I honestly started believing they were looking for reasons not to have me back home.’

 

‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ Kibum remarks, laughing out loud at Woohyun’s aggrieved expression. 

 

It’s good to have Woohyun back, Kibum thinks. It’s like the world is tilting slowly back into an equilibrium he’s used to.

 

Woohyun is in the midst of a story about the day his particularly cranky boss had decided they needed to rework the entire workday process when Kibum takes notice of the couple walking just in front of them, apparently headed in the same direction. There’s a familiarity to the side profile of the male, a familiarity to the slope of his shoulders, and the hands Kibum just glimpses gesturing in the air.

 

‘Jonghyun,’ he says, the name sliding out from his mouth involuntarily. And he stops in his tracks. Because even though he had chosen to step between Jonghyun and Minho just a few days ago, he doesn’t actually want to talk to Jonghyun again, doesn’t want to see him again. Not until it was all figured out, not until Jonghyun has decided, or Kibum has forgotten. Whichever comes first.

 

‘Jonghyun?’ Woohyun repeats, too loud. And Kibum’s hand flies to his mouth to swat at it. He had forgotten he hadn’t actually told Woohyun the names of the guys. But Woohyun dodges his hands, tongue still running, still teasing. ‘It’s  _ Woo _ hyun _ ,  _ my dearest Kibum. Not Jonghyun. I can’t believe you forgot your best friend’s name.’

 

And Kibum is grappling with Woohyun now because he’s too loud, too strident and it wouldn’t matter in any other situation, except in this one he really rather not be seen. ‘Shut up,’ he hisses. ‘He’s in front, I don’t-’

 

It’s too late, he can see Jonghyun pause in his conversation, cock his head and turn and it’s like time is coalescing around him, turning sticky and almost solid. ‘Kibum,’ Jonghyun says quietly. And Kibum hates that his heart still tries to crawl out of his mouth.

 

‘Hi,’ Kibum says. And his hand does an inane wave. He feels stupid. He probably looks stupid. Jonghyun’s eyes are opaque for once, and Kibum doesn’t know what he’s thinking. Time begins to move again, much too slowly. And he knows he should introduce Woohyun, should try to talk in coherent sentences. But he doesn’t know how to do it without accidentally spilling all his feelings. Again. 

 

The girl next to Jonghyun is pretty and slight and somehow miraculously smaller than him, and her arm is linked with his. She’s leaning slightly into his side. It looks comfortable. 

 

Kibum desperately wants to know who she is.

 

Jonghyun must notice his eyes lingering on the girl, because he falls out of the trance he had gotten lost in. ‘This is Sodam,’ he says. ‘My older sister. This is Kibum. He’s my neighbour.’

 

‘Oh,’ Sodam says, and her head tilts almost like a sparrow. ‘Nice to meet you.’ When she smiles, it’s a merry, amused one. Like they had interrupted her mid-joke.

 

‘Nice to meet you,’ Kibum repeats.

 

It takes Woohyun nudging him to remember his existence. ‘This is Woohyun,’ Kibum says. 

 

‘His best friend,’ Woohyun interjects, stretching out a hand to Jonghyun. And Kibum thinks he imagines it but there’s a tensed part of Jonghyun that relaxes at the words ‘best friend’.

 

‘Nice to meet you,’ Jonghyun says. The third time from the third person, Kibum notes. And he wants to point that out just to fill the silence that has built.

 

Stupid, stupid, lack of volume control, loud hailer Nam Woohyun.

 

‘We’re just going to get dinner,’ Woohyun says finally. ‘I just got back from Japan so Kibummie here is treating me to Korean food.’ He slings an arm around Kibum’s shoulders and pulls him in. 

 

Kibum snorts. ‘ _ You  _ are treating  _ me _ ,’ he rebutts. ‘Payment for the welcoming committee.’ 

 

‘Excuse me?’ Woohyun’s eyes widen. ‘ _ I _ was the one away from home-!’

 

Their mock fight is broken up by Sodam’s laughter. ‘We’re going to eat too,’ she begins. Kibum freezes, because he can see where this could lead and the last thing he wants to do is eat with the guy he most probably has fallen in love with, who still hasn’t figured out his head, or heart, yet.

 

‘I would ask you guys to join, but I want to eat Japanese food, and I’m guessing you don’t want to.’ The last is addressed to Woohyun. Kibum starts breathing again.

 

‘Not really,’ Woohyun says. And a smirk forms on his mouth; the smirk Kibum recognizes as the one he wears when he finds a girl attractive. Before Woohyun can say anything potentially stupid, Kibum jabs an elbow into Woohyun’s waist hard. In the interval that Woohyun tries to catch his breath, Kibum manages to find out that Sodam was in Hong Kong visiting her fiance. He shoots a deliberate glare in Woohyun’s direction and receives a wounded one in return.

 

‘We should go,’ Jonghyun says softly. ‘The queues will start to get long soon. See you around?’ His words make no specification, but his eyes focus only on Kibum.

 

‘See you,’ Kibum says, letting a tiny smile stretch across his mouth. He watches them leave.

 

‘Okay,’ Woohyun says. ‘That was one of the  _ great guys _ , was it not.’

 

Kibum doesn’t answer, still watching as the siblings talk, their heads close together.

 

‘Is this the one you want? Because this one definitely wants you.’

 

‘I don’t know about that,’ Kibum mutters. ‘But you’re not the first person who said that. Krystal did too, and Minho.’

 

‘Who’s Krystal?’ Woohyun asks, eyes alight. ‘That’s a pretty name.’

 

‘Good Lord, you never change,’ Kibum says, rolling his eyes. ‘Krystal is my coworker at the lounge and  _ no _ you cannot try to chase her. Her  _ girlfriend _ wouldn’t appreciate it.’

 

‘Dammit,’ Woohyun says. ‘Can you please  _ try _ to make friends with straight, single, girls? For me, your poor, sad, heterosexual best friend.’

 

‘Why are we talking about  _ you _ ?’ Kibum asks. ‘We were halfway through  _ my _ problems.’

 

‘Because my issues are more complicated,’ Woohyun replies. ‘Yours are simple. He likes you, you like him. Just jump each other and the whole day is saved. All thanks to Nam Woohyun, love guru.’

 

‘I just don’t know if it’s real, you know,’ Kibum admits. ‘He definitely loved his ex at one point. How did he so easily change?’

 

‘I doubt it was easy,’ Woohyun says quietly, rubbing circles into Kibum’s shoulder. ‘Sometimes life just doesn’t go the way you want it to. Sometimes it takes you by surprise.’

 

‘I just want to know that it’ll work,’ Kibum says.

 

‘You can’t,’ Woohyun tells him. ‘Nothing is for sure. You just have to decide to try. Try it and then be prepared to work damn hard at it.’

 

‘When did  _ you _ get so wise?’ Kibum says.

 

‘I always was,’ Woohyun says, smugly. ‘You were just never smart enough to acknowledge my wisdom.’

 

Kibum shoves Woohyun so hard he nearly crashes into a small boy. And in the middle of the room, they laugh until their stomachs hurt. Whatever happens next with Jonghyun, Kibum thinks he’ll be able to handle it, now that Woohyun is in reaching distance again.

  
  
  


‘So that was Kibum? The one you essentially wrecked your relationship with Taemin for?’ 

 

Sodam has never wasted time on sugarcoating with Jonghyun. 

 

‘Not quite wrecked,’ Jonghyun says. ‘Just...unsettled slightly.’

 

‘Enough for him to end it anyway,’ Sodam points out.

 

‘Yeah.’

 

Silence hooks its arms around their necks, and they walk quietly for a time.

 

‘He likes you.’

 

‘I know.’

 

Sodam seems to realize he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. So she starts talking about her wedding plans, about the songs Jonghyun needs to write for her, and the immense stress of the whole thing. Jonghyun feels oddly grateful that she doesn’t push further than he’s comfortable with. It’s hard to verbalize something when it hasn’t quite fully formed in your own head.

 

It’s only when the food comes that Jonghyun brings it up voluntarily.

 

‘He asked me to figure out if the feelings were real, or if I just wanted him because of this string.’ 

 

‘I knew your fascination with the threads would cause problems one day,’ Sodam says, but she’s smiling. ‘Such a romantic, little brother.  _ I’m _ not marrying my soulmate, are you gonna protest at the ceremony?’

 

‘Noona,’ Jonghyun says. ‘Not the point.’

 

‘Do you like him?’ Sodam asks. 

 

Jonghyun thinks about the glow in Kibum’s face when he talks about finishing his degree and finally being able to go into social service work, thinks about the lack of self-pity when he talks about his own past, thinks about the softness in his eyes when he coos at the dogs, at the quickness of his tongue with retorts, and the sharpness of his laughter, at the surprising ease in which he engages in conversations both about social issues and entertainment, thinks about how he politely but firmly brushes off the too touchy customers at the lounge. He thinks about the sliding feel of Kibum’s fingers over his flesh and how much he wanted to just fall into him and never ever fall out. 

 

‘Yes,’ Jonghyun says finally. ‘I do.’

 

‘Then does it matter how it started?’ 

 

Sodam’s question is probing but gentle.

 

‘It matters to him!’

 

‘Does it? Or is he just worried about you? He’s not a fairy tale, you know. The string doesn’t mean you won’t fight, or that you won’t hate each other once in awhile. It doesn’t mean happily-ever-after. It just means it might be easier. Maybe.’

 

Jonghyun covers his face and lets out a frustrated groan.

 

‘Hyun-ah, you need to stop believing in dreams so much.’

 

‘Maybe he’d be better off with Minho. Or that guy he was with just now.’

 

Sodam laughs. ‘I don’t know about this Minho person, but that Woohyun guy is straight as an arrow. Trust me. Plus, he doesn’t want them, does he? He wants you. For some reason I cannot fathom, he wants  _ you _ .’

 

‘The only question left is,  _ are you brave enough to try? _ ’

  
  
  
  


They’re in the middle of cooking dinner when Taemin laughs abruptly. 

 

‘What,’ Jongin asks on reflex, still scowling angrily at one of the recipes they had printed off the Internet when they had realized their free days for the term were the same for once, and Taemin had suggested learning to cook. 

 

‘Don’t you think this is so domesticated?’ 

 

‘Are we animals now?’ Jongin says snidely. ‘Domesticated pets.’

 

‘No, like we’re a married couple, or something.’ 

 

Jongin looks away from the recipe and stares at Taemin for nearly a minute without speaking. 

 

‘Don’t make fun, Tae,’ he says soberly. ‘You know how I feel.’

 

‘I’m not,’ Taemin replies. And he tries to pull his face back into a serious mein. 

 

Feelings are complex animals sometimes, they twist and turn and confuse what seems to be straightforward into a bend you don’t see coming. With Jonghyun, it had been simple enough, a blunt physical attraction that had turned into something more later. Something more that had turned another corner into something that far too easily dissipated. With Jongin, it had come in the middle of watching a movie with their friends, when Taemin had looked over at him laughing with Wonshik and realized with a sense of serene calmness, that he could and wanted to stay like this into forever. 

 

‘What do you mean, you’re not?’ Jongin asks, and now he looks grumpy. 

 

Taemin grins and walks forward to smooth fingers over the furrows between Jongin’s eyebrows. ‘It means this,’ he says. And leans in. 

 

He presses his lips to Jongin’s for a quick instant, chaste and innocent, and pulls back before Jongin can react. 

 

When Jongin moves shaky fingers to his mouth, Taemin starts laughing again. Not a mocking laugh, just a free one, a relieved one. He’s  _ happy _ , he realizes. In the past few months, that’s all he’s been, happy and content.

 

‘If you’re fucking with me, I swear I will kill you,’ Jongin threatens, eyes drifting dangerously to the knives in the corner of the kitchen. 

 

‘I’m not.’ Taemin repeats, and he leans against the counter and waits for the pieces to realign themselves in Jongin’s head. 

 

‘Do you mean,’ Jongin begins. ‘That I can do this?’ And he reaches up with gentle hands to cup Taemin’s cheek, to slide fingers through his hair, leans down slightly to press lips against Taemin’s forehead, cheekbones, side of his mouth and then to kiss him softly on the lips. 

 

_ Yes _ Taemin wants to say, but he doesn’t speak, just hooks his fingers into the loops of Jongin’s jeans and tugs him closer.

  
  
  


The doorbell rings at nine the next night, and Kibum thinks it has to be Woohyun. ‘Seriously,’ he mutters. ‘Back for a day and already bugging me too much.’ 

 

It isn’t Woohyun. 

 

It’s a sheepish-looking Jonghyun, one hand on the doorbell, one hand holding Roo’s leash. ‘Hi.’

 

‘Hi,’ Kibum replies. And then he runs out of words.

 

‘Hi,’ Jonghyun repeats. ‘My name is Jonghyun, I’m 27. I do writing and music for a living. This is Roo, she’s friendly and since we noticed you have dogs, I think she would like to meet them.’

 

Kibum finds his mouth turning up into a smile. ‘I’m Kibum,’ he says softly. ‘I’m 26, I guess I should call you hyung. I just completed my degree in social work, and I’m starting a new job in three weeks.’ 

 

As pattering tiny feet come to the doorway, Kibum picks up his puppies. ‘This is Comme des and this is Garcons.’

 

The dogs bark a little at each other, and Kibum lets himself stare at Jonghyun, at his too big eyes and too silly smile, at the way his shoulders pull at the fabric of his shirt. At his hair, now silver. ‘Your hair,’ Kibum says. 

 

‘Yeah,’ Jonghyun says. ‘They say when you’re about to make a change in your life you should do something about your hair.’

 

Kibum laughs. ‘That’s nonsense.’

 

Then he opens the door wider. ‘Do you want to come in?’

 

Jonghyun smiles.

 

‘I’ll get you a drink,’ Kibum says, uncomfortably aware of Jonghyun, suddenly realizing this is the first time he’s ever come into Kibum’s apartment. ‘I don’t really have soft drinks, but coffee or tea maybe?’

 

‘Water is fine,’ Jonghyun says, eyes wandering over the room, at the fashion magazines stacked next to the television, at the textbooks still spread out over the couch, at the framed pictures of his parents. Then his eyes light on a slim green novel with a bookmark mixed in with the textbooks and he grins. Kibum’s stomach twists.

 

‘You’re reading my book!’ He says, picking it up and waving it at Kibum. 

 

‘Don’t overthink this,’ Kibum warns, and disappears into the kitchen to get Jonghyun’s water. 

 

‘Should have hidden that,’ Kibum mutters to himself when he’s alone in the kitchen. ‘Stupid.’

 

When he comes out, Jonghyun is still holding the book, dreamy smile on his mouth. ‘You look dumb,' Kibum informs him, and places the glass onto the table. 

 

‘Is that any way to talk to your senior?’ 

 

‘You never cared before,’ Kibum says, shrugging. 

 

Jonghyun doesn’t reply, and when Kibum looks at him again, he has hesitation written across his features. Like he wants to say something, something he’s afraid that Kibum might not want to hear. 

 

‘I’ve missed you,’ Jonghyun says softly. 

 

The air between them thickens, and there’s a lump that grows in Kibum’s throat. 

 

‘Did you?’ Kibum whispers. 

 

‘Yeah,’ Jonghyun says.

 

It’s hard to breathe over the icicles freezing up his chest, in his lungs. Hard to see beyond Jonghyun’s soft, earnest eyes. He gives in to the temptation, and reaches up to touch light fingers over a lock of Jonghyun’s hair. 

 

Jonghyun’s hand lifts to grasp Kibum’s. ‘I like you,’ he says. ‘And I’ve realized it doesn’t matter if it’s started the way it did. Because I like you. And if you’re still interested, maybe-’ 

 

Kibum smiles. ‘Maybe. Definitely maybe.’

 

‘Want to go out for dinner tomorrow night?’

  
  
  
  


'I've been getting complaints about your increasingly depressing sets,' Jinki tells Jonghyun, trademark sunshine smile stretching on his lips. 'But just when I decide to talk to you about it, you pull out a set that is so romantic, it's goosebump inducing.'

 

'Krystal talks too much,' Jonghyun mutters, staring intently at his guitar and scores, avoiding the too knowing look in Jinki's eyes. 

 

Jinki laughs softly. 'Amber tells me everything,' he says. 'Why are you blaming Krystal?'

 

'You know your cousin wouldn't know a thing if Krystal didn't have such a loose tongue and eagle eyes,' Jonghyun says, more affectionate than snide.

 

They fall into a companionable silence; Jinki's hands quietly picking up and rearranging scores. Jonghyun thinks maybe there's something else he wants to ask, something else spinning around in his head that needs to be practiced first. Jinki might handle the financial aspects of the lounge and the general management, but usually he leaves the actual day to day to Amber. 

 

'You know,' Jinki begins hesitantly. 'I heard something else too.' Jonghyun waits, stilling in his seat.

 

'You and that Kibum..,' Jinki starts, tilting his head in the direction where Kibum is sending a smile to a regular. 'Is it something I should be worried about?'

 

'If you mean a terrible breakup scene that will drive away customers,' Jonghyun says. 'No, it's not. We're not even...really anything right now anyway.' He wants to hide from Jinki's resultant astonishment.

 

'You're not? I swear Krystal said…'

 

Jonghyun shrugs. 'We had a weird start,' he admits carefully. 'We're doing things slow. It's just dating right now, nothing that serious.' The attempt to make himself sound blasè hurts.

 

The way Jinki nods at him tells Jonghyun that he probably heard about said 'weird start'. He looks away from Jinki's quiet watching gaze and accidentally catches Kibum's eyes from across the room. Kibum sends him an open dazzling smile from where he is, and Jonghyun feels something dissolve into bubbles in his chest. He smiles back, and it feels like a silly, giddy smile, but he thinks maybe it doesn't matter.

 

'If you want to make it serious,' Jinki says softly, like he's talking from some place far far away. 'I don't think he'll mind.'

 

'Besides,' he continues, matter of fact. 'He's quitting in two weeks, so whatever you want to do wouldn't really impact me or my business by then.'

 

'He's...what?' Jonghyun looks at Jinki blankly, mind whirling. 'Why hasn't he told me?' 

 

It's irrational; the drop of his heart at Jinki's words. After all, Kibum is his neighbour,  _ and _ the person he's dating. What difference did it make if they no longer work at the same place? What did it matter?

 

Maybe it's just being selfish; but Jonghyun likes looking over and seeing Kibum there, likes catching his eye midway through a set, mouth a particularly sentimental line while holding his gaze, likes seeing Kibum roll his eyes and almost blush, likes walking home from the lounge with him, talking about everything and nothing at all; hands linked and fingers interlaced, likes kissing open mouthed outside his door. Nothing more though, not yet. Jonghyun doesn't want to push things too quick. But sometimes there's a look in Kibum's eyes, hungry and longing, and it makes Jonghyun think he can push if he wants to. It makes him feel that maybe one day he could have a hope of making whatever they have into something more serious, than this testdrive they have been on for the last couple of months, both too afraid to make into anything more. 

 

When he walks over to the bar, Kibum is carefully extracting his wrist from a particularly enthusiastic customer, and he sends Jonghyun a disgruntled expression from over the customer's shoulder. Jonghyun laughs and shakes his head, face falling into a mocking 'poor you' expression. Kibum sticks out his tongue, and Jonghyun settles in to wait for him to remove the leech.

 

By the time Kibum comes over, Jonghyun is already embroiled in an accusatory conversation with Krystal about her tendency to blab to Jinki about everything. ' _ Technically _ ,' Krystal points out. 'I don't actually tell Jinki anything.'

 

'You tell your girlfriend,' Jonghyun replies. 'And she tells him.' He levels a stare at her. 

 

'What Amber does with the information I give her,' Krystal says calmly. 'Is nothing to do with me.'

 

'Who tells who what?' Kibum interrupts them, leaning over to press lips to Jonghyun's cheek. Casual; like they do it all the time. Except they don't, and Jonghyun is pretty sure it's meant to make a point to the customer still staring at Kibum. He grins softly, and thinks about thanking him. 

 

'Amber tells Jinki everything,' Jonghyun replies. 

 

'About what?' Kibum asks, grin turning curious. 

 

'About you and Jonghyun,' Krystal interjects blandly, when Jonghyun is suddenly unable to find voice. 

 

'Oh,' Kibum says, turning shy, pink spreading over his cheekbones. 'Forget I asked.'

 

Krystal opens her mouth as if to deliver a teasing comment, but looks at Jonghyun gazing stupidly at Kibum, and Kibum's eyes darting like fireflies in the night sky and closes it again. She wanders off muttering something under her breath about 'love birds' and 'sappy' and 'throwing up'. Kibum glances at her retreating back and scrunches up his face. Jonghyun stifles a laugh.

 

It had taken Krystal a while to deal with the shifting tides of the relationship, about the not so palatable nature of the beginning, but now she sometimes looks at them with an almost motherly concern that is strange in someone younger than them both.

 

'I liked your set today,' Kibum tells Jonghyun, once Krystal is out of earshot.

 

'Jinki thought it was too romantic,' Jonghyun tells him. Then adds unashamedly, 'Most of the songs were about you.'

 

When Kibum covers his face with his palms, peering out from between his fingers Jonghyun laughs softly, reaching out to peel his hands away, and inches closer to kiss his mouth.

 

'You're so embarrassing,' Kibum whispers, when Jonghyun pulls away, breath warm on his lips. 

 

'Only for you,' Jonghyun says, words rolling too quickly off his tongue, and he almost bites it off when he hears exactly what he's said. He's afraid it's too much like a declaration of love, that Kibum might not want to so quickly commit to, too much like promising forever. But Kibum doesn't seem to realize the implication, only humming in response.

 

'I sure hope so,' he says finally, gaze frank and arch, and Jonghyun is caught by an urge to ask about them, about what they are, tell Kibum he wants a chance to link them together in more ways than just that intangible red thread, a chance to dream of a future, to dream of eternities and forever afters. But the waterfall of words he wants to say, to sing, to proclaim has to be walled up when Kibum nods at the stage diagonally behind them.

 

'Isn't it about time for the second set?' he asks, and Jonghyun swallows down a groan of exasperation. 

 

'I'll see you after your shift?' Jonghyun asks.

 

'Yeah.' Kibum smiles, and Jonghyun thinks that it's the brightest he's ever seen.

  
  
  
  


There is something on Jonghyun's mind, Kibum thinks, as Jonghyun walks away, Something he's still trying to find the words to say. Kibum knows enough to wait; often Jonghyun needs to spin ideas in his head until they form a structure he can live with, before he is able to articulate it. Kibum hopes it isn't anything about their tenuous relationship, isn't anything that could tear it apart. He'd like to keep him, hold on long enough for whatever is between them to start becoming something more solid, and he thinks if they keep walking like this they'll get there. 

 

~-~

 

The wee hours of the morning make Kibum think about serenity and peace. It's something to do with the pitch blackness maybe, the dark space around them lit only by scattered dotting lights. There's something intimate about walking in the dark, the noise of the lounge and nightlife far enough to only be a muted roar in the distance. Kibum likes moments like these with Jonghyun; fingers interlaced, walking in tandem, in comfortable silence. 

 

'Why are you quitting?' Jonghyun asks suddenly, his voice too loud, his hand tightening around Kibum's.

 

'Quitting what?' Kibum asks back. It would be easier to simply answer the question, to say the new job doesn't give him enough space to make this feasible, that he doesn't need it anymore, the buffer, the money, the security, that he feels more stable now. But there's something hidden in the way Jonghyun is asking the question that makes him want to push.

 

'The bar job,' Jonghyun says quietly. And the tone of voice makes Kibum think maybe the real question is  _ Why didn't you tell me? _ That maybe Jonghyun wants a stake in Kibum's decisions, in the way he lives his life, wants permanence, wants continuity. Things Kibum would hand over in a bare instance. 

 

If someone asked him to describe what they had between them, he would call it undefined, still unsure, and moving forward is a soft kind of unfolding, like trying to pry open the petals of a rosebud. He isn't sure if they'll be destroyed, or, if he holds his breath, they'll bloom into something beautiful.

 

'Are you upset?' Kibum asks, voice carefully unconcerned. He glances at Jonghyun from the sides of his eyes, watches as surprise widens Jonghyun's already wide eyes, and slackens the edges of his mouth.

 

'No,' Jonghyun replies. 'Yes. Maybe.' His gaze lands on Kibum's smile, and his own mouth stretches into a matching one.

 

'Why is it so hard to tell you the truth?' He continues, contemplative. 'Yes, I  _ am _ upset, I wanted to find out first. From you, not Jinki. I want to ask you  _ What are we?  _ and I want you to answer  _ I'm yours, you're mine, _ like we're bound by so much more than this string. I want you to come up to me again and look at me like you can see through skin, and tell me  _ I want you _ like you did that one time, take my breath away with the force of your certainty. I want you to be sure,  _ I  _ want to be sure. I want to tell you  _ I think I'm in love with you _ and I want you to say  _ I think I am, too. _ I want to call you boyfriend, even if that sounds ridiculous for people our age, and I want to plan for a future with you.'

 

Jonghyun looks away and takes a breath. 'And I really do not want you to run away after hearing all of this.'

 

They stop at the bottom of their apartment block and he stands too still, eyes averted. In that space of silence, Kibum starts laughing, full, loud, breathless. He reaches over and curves both palms around Jonghyun's face, turning him back to him. The beating of his heart is so loud it sounds like exploding firecrackers.

 

'I think I'm in love with you,' Kibum whispers. 'Boyfriend.' Jonghyun sucks in an audible breath and Kibum laughs again, this time gently, softly, like falling cherry blossoms. 

 

'I love you too,' Jonghyun says back. 'I love you.'

 

'That wasn't so hard, was it?' Kibum asks, teasing. And Jonghyun shakes his head lightly.

 

'I'm sorry,' he says. 'For how it was when it first started, for not being clear, for taking so long. For being too afraid to make the leap. For hurting you both with indecision.'

 

'I'm not the person you should apologize to,' Kibum says. 'I never stopped you. I wanted you when I shouldn't have.' He leans his forehead against Jonghyun's. 'It's over, we can't do anything now.'

 

'Do you think he hates us?' Jonghyun asks, hands drifting down to rest on Kibum's hips. 

 

'If he does,' Kibum states firmly. 'We probably deserve it.'

 

Jonghyun's laugh is choked. 'Will  _ you _ hate me,' he says. 'If I tell you I still wish he'd forgive me?' He pulls away to stare at Kibum. Kibum's hands fall away from Jonghyun's face. 

 

'Not unless you mean forgive and get back together,' he says quietly. 'Humans always want forgiveness, I think. It's not wrong.'

 

'I think,' Jonghyun says, voice distant. 'I would have fallen in love with you even without the string. We could have met each other while walking the dogs, or bumped into each other in the elevator. I don't know if that's unfair to Taemin, or if that's just life.'

 

Kibum doesn't reply. He just hooks his arms around Jonghyun's neck and pulls him in for a kiss. There are answers to that thought perhaps, answers hidden in the psyche of people who understand the capricious, unpredictable nature of life better than he does. He only knows how to hold on to the man in his arms now, and hope that the arms slung tight around his waist don't let go.

  
  
  
  


'Why are we in a dog park?' Jongin complains. 'It's so hot, and noisy and we don't own a dog.' 

 

'We are doing research on the possibility of owning one in the future,' Taemin tells him. 'This is necessary field research.'

 

'You didn't think to discuss such an important decision with me first?' Jongin gasps in mock anger, and Taemin rolls his eyes.

 

'You know you want a dog, stop acting,' he says. 'And I'm telling you  _ now, _ right?'

 

Jongin raises his hands in surrender. 'Wonshik might be right about me being whipped,' he quips goodnaturedly. 

 

'Happily whipped,' Taemin retorts, sliding an arm around Jongin's waist. 

 

'Very happily,' Jongin agrees.

 

~-~

 

It's the last thing he expects to see honestly, but maybe it's not entirely unsurprising. After all, between the two of them, they have three dogs. Because when Taemin turns a corner, he catches sight of his ex-boyfriend struggling with three leashes, and the man who had broken them up leaning against a tree laughing.

 

'I told you, you're too tiny to handle three dogs,' Kibum gasps out.

 

'This is the first time they're being like this, I swear they're acting up because of you!' Jonghyun's whining is familiar to Taemin, but the searing pain that should have accompanied the sound is gone.

 

'Should have accepted Minho,' Kibum remarks to the atmosphere. 'At least his long arms wouldn't have this problem.'

 

'How dare you!' Jonghyun drops the leashes and launches himself at Kibum, fingers digging into his hips. Kibum's laughter turns hysterical, and he bats his fists weakly at Jonghyun's chest.

 

'You okay?' Jongin asks, from beside Taemin. And Taemin jerks back into himself. Jongin is watching him with careful worry. 

 

'Yeah,' Taemin says, small smile curving over his mouth. 'He's happy, and I'm not angry anymore.' 

 

Jongin grabs his fingers and tugs. 'Let's get away from here,' he says.

 

Just as they walk away, Taemin looks back. 'Hey,' he yells at Jonghyun and Kibum. 'Your dogs are escaping.' When they both glance up, he points at the puppies running off in three different directions. Jonghyun's mouth goes slack, and Kibum's eyes turn wary, his hand closing around Jonghyun's wrist. But all Taemin does is smile and wave, then he turns away. 

 

'I call it closing the chapter,' he says, answering Jongin's unspoken question. 'I still win.'

 

Jongin snorts, shaking his head. 'Let's name our dog Monggu,' he says, changing the subject.

 

'What? No!' Taemin argues. 'What does that even mean?'

  
  
  
  


'That was weird,' Kibum says, watching Jongin and Taemin walk away. He doesn't seem to realize his hand is still tight around Jonghyun's wrist. 

 

'I think we're forgiven,' Jonghyun says, raising an eyebrow. He aims a grin at Kibum. There's a weight that has fallen away from his chest, something unlocking.

 

'Aren't you pleased,' Kibum drawls. His fingers slowly unclasp from Jonghyun's wrist.

 

'Wouldn't you be?' Jonghyun says, grinning wider. He reaches over and pulls Kibum back towards him by the waist. 

 

'I don't know,' Kibum muses. 'I still think it's weird.'

 

'He's happy,' Jonghyun says. 'He doesn't hate us. That's a good thing, right?'

 

Kibum hums distractedly, and Jonghyun angles his head up to kiss Kibum. 'It's over anyway,' he says as he pulls away. 'No point thinking about it. You said that too.'

 

'Hating us would be more normal,' Kibum insists.

 

'Anyone would think you want to be hated,' Jonghyun comments. 'He's happy, we're happy. He doesn't hate us. I think it's actually a pretty good ending for such a bitter breakup.'

 

Before Kibum can say anything else, Jonghyun pushes him in the direction of where the puppies had run to. 'Stop overthinking my ex and go catch the runaways.'

 

Kibum starts out, then shakes his head and laughs impishly. 'You go,' he says. 'Mr. I'm not too tiny to handle three dogs at once.'

 

Jonghyun lets his expression fall into an offended one. 'I'll prove this to you,' he says. 'When I did my dog walking stint, I could walk-'

 

'Five dogs at once.' Kibum finishes the sentence. 'Yes, yes I know.' He sends a dazzling smile in Jonghyun's direction, then pulls him close and kisses him. 

 

'Motivation,' he tells Jonghyun, patting his bum, breath hot against Jonghyun's mouth. 'Now go find them.'

 

'I need a bit more of that,' Jonghyun whispers, dragging a finger up Kibum's back.

 

'Later,' Kibum promises, smirk curling over his mouth. 'After you find the dogs.'

 


	2. drabble set 1 [jongkey]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i've been quite miserable lately about writing cos nothing is working sooooo here's a bunch of drabbles in this au.  
> these are only jongkey~

**moonlight**

sometimes kibum wakes up in the middle of the night to an empty bed; the covers on jonghyun's side rumpled, but the person himself missing. he spreads his fingers over the bedsheets and smiles to himself. when he looks up, jonghyun is where he always is; standing near the window looking up at the moon.

 

the light from the streetlamps stretch white trails across the contours of jonghyun's face and sometimes kibum will just gaze before going back to sleep; he knows jonghyun needs this kind of silence. this time, he clambers out of bed and makes his way to jonghyun's side.

 

jonghyun's eyes don't move from the sky, but he reaches out to take hold of kibum's hand when he gets nearer, interlacing their fingers and pulling him close. the red threads looped around their little fingers tighten, and kibum imagines he can feel them tugging their souls closer together. "hey," jonghyun says, softly.

 

"good morning," kibum replies, just as tender. silence closes around them, not suffocating, not questioning, just warm comfort.

 

"i love you." jonghyun says; breaking the peace. and kibum laughs a little.

 

"i know," he replies, tone just slightly arch.

 

jonghyun leans his head against kibum's shoulder. "you're incorrigible." he's laughing.

 

"i love you too," kibum says, almost inaudible, pressing a kiss into jonghyun's hair.

 

"i know."

 

**apartment**

 

"you should just move in with me," jonghyun mutters, his voice still hoarse with sleep. kibum looks up from where he's saying goodbye to his puppies to see his boyfriend sitting up on the edge of the bed, hair mussed and rubbing his eyes. he looks like a child, kibum thinks, with a surge of affection.

 

"or _you_ could move in with me," he replies.

 

jonghyun's lower lip extends out childishly. "'too small," he says.

 

kibum lets out a laugh. "our apartments are exactly the same size," he points out.

 

"still too small," jonghyun repeats mutinuously.

 

kibum shakes his head and strides back to the bed, settling next to jonghyun. he slings an arm around jonghyun's hips. "why are you thinking about this..at 7 in the morning?"

 

"i don't like you leaving so early," jonghyun complains.

 

"i would even if we lived together."

 

"but you would be coming back to me!"

 

"i already am."

 

there's a pause and a scuffle when jonghyun leans up to kiss kibum and kibum tries to avoid his unwashed mouth.

 

"we could just knock down the wall between us." jonghyun comes back to the topic after successfully getting a kiss.

 

"the landlord would murder us."

 

jonghyun's pout deepens.

 

kibum looks at him, words hidden at the back of his mouth swimming too quickly to the front. "we could just get another apartment together," he suggests, the words almost tangled together. it's something he's wanted for a while but was too afraid to say.

 

when all jonghyun does is look at him for several long seconds, kibum desperately wishes there was a way to recall words.

 

"do you mean that?" jonghyun's expression and tone are serious, pout and whine wiped away.

 

"of course."

 

kibum shrieks when jonghyun abruptly tackles him onto the bed. "i'll look at listings while you're at work today," he promises in between attacks of kisses.

 

kibum laughs out loud and kisses him back, morning breath be damned.

 

 

**claim**

there's a group of just-legal girls who have discovered the lounge where jonghyun plays. they started coming about three months ago, and he's gotten asked out about once every week ever since. jonghyun always laughs and rejects them, but he's gentle and not harsh and they're undeterred.

 

"i keep telling them you're as gay as they come, but they don't believe me," krystal informs him. "is kibum ever coming to lay claim to you?"

 

"i don't need claiming," jonghyun says easily, grinning. "they'll get over it. he's busy with a case, no need to bother him with this."

 

when kibum pops in about five months after the girls start becoming regulars, he has the misfortune of sitting right next to them. jonghyun watches in amusement as kibum's face runs through a gamut of expressions -- from bemusement to surprise and then sheer annoyance, as the set moves along and the girls giggle to each other. he doesn't know what they talk about but krystal has told him it sometimes gets graphic.

 

his boyfriend marches up to him the minute his last song is finished, long legs easily overtaking the troop of girls. "are _they_ why krystal texted me this vague message of _come to the pub and mark your property?"_ he drawls, single eyebrow raised.

 

jonghyun grins good-humouredly. "i told her not to disturb you," he tsks. "it's fine, they're harmless."

 

"i really do not think so," kibum mutters. he reaches out, grips jonghyun's collar, pulls him in and kisses him. jonghyun melts into the kiss easily, forgetting the pub and their audience and just enjoying the movement of kibum's lips and tongue. he slides arms around kibum's waist and tugs him closer, their fronts flush.

 

when kibum pulls away, his smile is wicked and he pats the still dazed jonghyun on his bum. he turns to face the stunned group of girls behind them that jonghyun had clean forgotten about. "you can talk to him now," he tells them, and calmly makes his way back to the bar.

 

"that was incredibly childish," jonghyun mutters under his breath. but he smiles when the girls only mutely spin around to walk back to their booth.

  
"i told you so," krystal comments, loud enough for jonghyun to hear. when he looks over, she's snickering as she watches the girls whisper urgently among themselves.


	3. detours [taekai]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the taekai for stardust_symphony (: thank you for humouring me i hope you don't hate this ;;;

when jongin starts work at the dance school, they call him taemin for a week. 

 

taemin, the other new teacher, had joined just two days before and apparently they had enough similarity of bone structure and facial features to confuse the other teachers.

 

jongin doesn't quite get it, since his schedules don't quite coincide with taemin's, so he just gets used to it, to the senior teachers misidentifying him, to gently correcting them, to wondering who this mysterious other person is. when he finally meets taemin on the third day of his second week at a company meeting, he feels almost cheated.

 

"you don't look _anything_ like me," is the first thing he tells taemin.

 

taemin blinks, then refocuses on him and lets out a chuckle. "jongin, i'm guessing? i'm taemin, nice to meet you." he sticks out his hand and arches an eyebrow and jongin feels his cheeks heat up.

 

"nice to meet you," he replies, reaching out to return the handshake. taemin's hand is awfully small, it gets swallowed whole in his own.

 

~-~

 

taemin was born with a golden spoon in his mouth, jongin discovers later. his father a successful businessman, chairman of one of the top science publishers in the country. but taemin is not arrogant, he's rather unassuming actually, quiet and a little shy. the mischief that had sparked in his eyes the first time jongin met him only rarely makes an appearance. and as the weeks go by, jongin finds himself holding those moments dear.

 

they have different relationships with dance. for taemin it had been an accidental collision in the first year of high school, when an audition on a whim for dance club had unveiled talents he had been unaware of. dance for jongin, on the other hand, was a long term childhood companion; ballet from the age of six and dance intertwined in his soul ever since.

 

"you're really good," taemin says, when he catches jongin dancing in one of the empty studios just before the school closes. "teach me." jongin sucks in a breath when taemin smiles, soft and hopeful. 

 

 _and you're really pretty_ he almost says.

 

"you don't need teaching." is what he says instead. 

 

shaking his head, taemin moves closer. "teach me," he repeats, gaze on jongin steady.

 

jongin doesn't know why his heart decides to lodge in his throat.

 

"okay," he says.

 

taemin smiles again.

 

~-~

 

jongin believes in soulmates; kind of. not necessarily the ones who are tied together by the red threads strung over every doorway, curled around every pillar. but the kind who somehow understand who you are; fit into your world, leaving no gap, and keep you safe. taemin is his, he thinks.

 

being friends with taemin is easy, banter and jokes slowly blossoming into honest thoughts and secrets, dancing together into the night, the senior teachers leaving the keys and shaking their heads, sharing lunches, buying gifts, just talking, just breathing.

 

taemin doesn't believe in soulmates, not really. he thinks you can fall in love with anyone, that love doesn't need to be predestined to be real. so jongin doesn't tell him that sometimes late at night, he'd look at his string stretching out the window and hope.

 

~-~

 

it's six months to knowing each other when taemin comes to jongin to whine about his landlord increasing the rent, with no notice. "i know i probably can afford it," he says, lifting a shoulder. "but the principle of it is annoying." 

 

"sometimes, you really make it obvious you're a rich boy," jongin says, and he laughs when taemin pouts and slaps his arm lightly.

 

"why not stay with me?" he finds himself suggesting. taemin looks up with a gleam in his eye and jongin's throat gets tight, a strange taste of anxiety on his tongue.

 

"my flatmate is leaving at the end of the month and no one nice has answered the ad yet. so why not?" jongin lifts his own shoulder in a stiffer approximation of taemin's earlier action. "if you want anyway," he adds, when all taemin does is cock his head in consideration.

 

"it's not a slum, right?" 

 

"god, you're such a brat."

 

taemin moves in the next month.

 

~-~

 

taemin is messy, jongin finds out. his room a kind of organised chaos that jongin has to get used to. taemin drinks his coffee with too much milk and wakes up too early. taemin likes to barge into jongin's room in the morning and talk at him until he wakes up. taemin doesn't bother brushing his hair until just before he steps out the door so jongin sees a lot of bedhead taemin. taemin owns way too many anime dvds and watches them late into the night. taemin doesn't bother with exercise aside from all the dancing and can probably credit his metabolism for the slimness of his frame. taemin laughs a lot when he's relaxed, tells jokes that are completely unfunny but expects jongin to laugh anyway. taemin walks around the apartment like he's dancing and sometimes jongin dances along. taemin convinces jongin that he should try every dish in every takeout place and playfully mocks him when he doesn't like them. taemin tells him secrets in the middle of the night, secretive and mischievous and jongin often wonders if he's lying. but in the morning he'll smile sleepily at jongin over his mug and jongin likes to think he's not. 

 

sometimes the way taemin smiles makes something beat its wings in jongin's chest. sometimes he wants to reach out and curl his hands around taemin's waist, draw him in and hold him close, listen to him breathe. 

 

sometimes jongin thinks he might be in love with taemin.

 

~-~

 

there's a new receptionist at the counter when they walk in, and taemin's eyes dart to him and a smile curls up over his mouth. "he's cute," he stage whispers to jongin. and when the receptionist glances over at the words, taemin returns his stare and practically struts over and there's something almost tangible that sparks between them. jongin watches taemin lean in on his elbows and tilt his head and sees the gaze of the receptionist linger on taemin's mouth and there's something ugly that curls in his gut.

 

"his name is jonghyun," taemin tells jongin later. "he believes in soulmates."

 

"that will make it difficult for you then," jongin says.  
taemin's laugh is brash and confident. "i don't think so." and jongin thinks, a little sadly, that he probably isn't wrong. 

 

he focuses on the threads that day, paying more attention than he usually does, letting them come to the forefront of his vision for once. he idly traces the path of his own string, following it out the teachers' office and down the corridor. somehow when he tracks it to where taemin is teaching his class, it doesn't surprise him. the loop straightens out as he stands there, the glowing red string tight between taemin's left pinkie and jongin's right, and it feels like a cruel practical joke, that he only realises when taemin meets someone that makes his eyes light up.

 

jongin doesn't tell taemin, afraid that taemin with his derision towards soulmates will laugh, afraid that the laughter will break him. he wonders if the only promise the string offers is platonic friendship, if the easy companionship they have now is the result of it, if maybe his own romantic feelings have no future. 

 

but he still wants to try, despite how much taemin scoffs at red strings, despite how many people disregard it, despite the longer amounts of time taemin spends at the receptionist desk, the many lunches where he ditches jongin. jongin wants to try, to see if they can build something on their friendship, create something that will bind them closer.

 

~-~

 

"i need to talk to you," he tells taemin, hoping the seriousness in his tone is obvious.

 

"i need to talk to _you,"_ taemin replies, and his smile is giddy and his eyes are sparkling. _like stars_ jongin thinks, even if it's a clichè.

 

"you go first then."

 

it's a mistake, but maybe a lucky one. because taemin leans in and confides that he's kissed jonghyun, that they've agreed to try something, a date the next saturday, that taemin is so happy. and now jongin knows the ugliness in his gut is jealousy, and he discovers it has claws, because it's pain too.

 

"congratulations." and maybe his sincerity is too fake, but taemin doesn't notice.

 

"so what did you want to tell me?" taemin's smile is still on the edges of his mouth, and jongin imagines it will fall off entirely if he says what he planned to.

 

"i can't remember now," he replies, and his smile is too stiff on his mouth, but taemin still doesn't notice.


	4. drabble set 2 [jongkey]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for MewAqua1 who asked for tattoo fic and haveyouseenmysocks who wanted fluffy domestic!jongkey. i'm sorry if i fucked up~
> 
> (really no idea if anyone reads or likes my stuff anymore tbh BUT i'll keep writing these until i get bored~)

**tattoo**

it's a slow saturday afternoon and they're lazing on the couch -- jonghyun fiddling with his phone, head in kibum's lap, kibum reading a book, the fingers of his free hand playing with jonghyun's hair -- when jonghyun brings up the subject.

"i want a tattoo."

kibum's fingers still in jonghyun's hair and he drags his eyes from his book. when he tilts his head to look down at jonghyun, jonghyun laughs softly, poking at kibum's neck. "you have a double chin like this," he says fondly.

kibum rolls his eyes and pushes away jonghyun's fingers. "what did you say?"

"i want a tattoo," jonghyun repeats, batting his eyes at kibum.

"whatever for."

"i just want one," jonghyun pouts for good measure and kibum's ensuing laugh is affectionate.

"then get one. it's your body, i don't own you." he makes to go back to his book.

"oh you probably own me more than _i_ own me."

kibum scoffs, but he returns jonghyun's teasing grin. "i can't imagine you with tattoos," he tells jonghyun, putting his book firmly to the side. "tattoos are dangerous...you would be like a little puppy trying to be a wolf." kibum slides light fingers over jonghyun's chest. "where would you put them?"

"i'm plenty dangerous," jonghyun informs him. "didn't you think so when you first saw me sing?"

kibum frowns at the memory. "i don't think that was a good moment for either of us," he reminds jonghyun soberly. jonghyun's mouth quirks into a sad smile. he reaches up and dances fingers lightly over kibum's cheekbones. the red string looped around his little finger seems to glow in the lamp light. "i love you, you know that right?" jonghyun says.

kibum catches his hand. "i love you too."

jonghyun pulls him down to kiss him and they forget about tattoos for a moment.

~-~

"where would you put them?" kibum asks again, a little while later. they're both lying on the couch, squeezed close, facing each other.

"somewhere on my arm," jonghyun tells kibum, tracing a path along his bicep to demonstrate. "just a word."

kibum reaches out his hand to trace the same route. "if you want one, just get one," he tells jonghyun, eyes pinned to his skin, like he's imagining it there.

"i just want you to like it too," jonghyun insists. kibum smiles gently.

"sap."

~-~

the tattoo doesn't hurt as much or take as long as jonghyun anticipates and in his surprise, maybe he mentions it a little too often and a little too enthusiastically.

"did you expect it to be like you're being cut open in a surgery?" the tattoo artist snarks finally, sounding slightly exasperated.

jonghyun goes silent after that. he figures he shouldn't be too annoying to a lady poking needles into his skin.

~-~

kibum's eyebrow rises curiously when jonghyun skips up to him excitedly the moment he gets home from work. "what did you do?" he asks, half suspicious, half amused.

instead of replying, jonghyun carefully positions himself and awkwardly waves his arm in front of kibum's face, grin getting wider as kibum's eyebrow climbs higher.

"did you finally get that tattoo thing?" kibum queries, gripping jonghyun's elbow to stop the movement. when he reaches out fingers to touch the black lines, jonghyun squeaks. "can't!" he pushes kibum in fits and starts to the toilet and solemnly hands him the antibacterial soap.

"you're ridiculous," kibum says, shaking his head and squeezing soap into his hands.

"the artist was intimidating," jonghyun replies. "she said something about infections and gangrene and chopping off my arm. it's probably not true, but i really don't want to piss her off."

"again," he adds, guiltily.

"i was pretty sure you were more cool than this when i met you," kibum quips as he dries his hands.

he pauses, eyes turning distant. "actually no, never mind. you weren't cool at all."

jonghyun frowns, but brightens up again when kibum crouches to stare at the tattoo, touching light, tentative fingers to it. "does it hurt?"

"a little," jonghyun admits. "and you probably shouldn't touch it too much."

"it's pretty," kibum says, retreating his fingers from the tattoo. there's something swimming in his eyes that makes jonghyun's stomach tilt. "i kind of want to put my mouth on it," he adds, sounding almost embarrassed.

"you can, when it heals," jonghyun promises, wishing he had superhuman healing powers. kibum's laugh is lower than usual. "that's a date, then."

jonghyun draws him to a chair and they curl up on it, kibum settled in jonghyun's lap. "what does it mean?" kibum is staring at the tattoo again.

"nevertheless," jonghyun says, soft smile on his mouth, "my mother told me that a lot when we were growing up. if you want something, keep going nevertheless. whatever the pain. it'll be worth it in the end. that's probably what pushed me to get my book published."

kibum shifts slightly and leans in to kiss the juncture between jonghyun's neck and shoulder. "it's a good tattoo," he says. jonghyun just hums in reply, gripping him closer.

("the next one you get should say 'property of kim kibum'."

  
"only if you get one that says 'jonghyun's'.")

 

**pancakes**

 

it's jonghyun who wakes up to an empty bed early that morning. he's concerned for a moment, it isn't usual; the insomniac is him, not kibum. but when he follows the red string that links them, he's led to the kitchen and to his boyfriend who seems to be preparing to make something, the room only lit by his phone's flashlight. he looks like he's dancing with the light almost, opening and closing cupboards and drawers, moving up and down. jonghyun just watches him for some minutes, thinking, not for the first time, how lucky he got.

 

kibum looks up when jonghyun draws closer, soft smile automatically pulling at his lips, and it turns into a laugh when jonghyun moves forward to curl arms around his waist and nuzzle into his neck. "you found me."

 

"i always will," jonghyun declares, and he can feel kibum's shoulders shake in laughter.

 

"you know _i_ know you use that thread like a tracking device," he says, but the words are without bite. jonghyun's only admission is a smile kibum can't see.

 

"what are you doing?" jonghyun asks after a beat, watching kibum's hands busy themselves with flour, milk and eggs.

 

"making pancakes," kibum replies, serenely.

 

"at three in the morning?"

 

"i just wanted to." kibum turns his head to press a kiss to jonghyun's cheek. "wanna help?"

 

when jonghyun nods eagerly into his shoulder, kibum extracts himself from the circle of jonghyun's arms, and places a half-filled bowl in front of jonghyun. "mix that," he instructs, before turning to the stove.

 

about a minute into mixing, jonghyun stares at the white mixture and grins consideringly, he lifts up a filled spoon and glances over at kibum's back. just as he raises it in aim, kibum interrupts. "if you throw anything at me, i'm hiding your guitar." he hasn't even looked over.

 

jonghyun's mouth tightens into a pout. "how did you know?"

 

this time kibum does turn around. he takes a look at jonghyun's childishly unhappy face and grins. "i know you," he replies, simply. jonghyun can't help his own smile at the words.

 

they're still working only by the single light emitting from kibum's phone, but neither of them makes a move to change that.

 

~-~

 

"isn't this better than a food fight?" kibum says, when the pancakes are stacked on a plate in between them. jonghyun pauses in his reach for them and tilts his head in a posture of deep thinking.

 

"i think i'd have preferred getting you dirty," he says finally, eliciting a snort from kibum.

 

"you're ridiculous," kibum says, rolling his eyes, but he's hiding a smile behind his hand. he leans over and presses a kiss to the corner of jonghyun's mouth. it tastes of maple syrup.

 

 


	5. drabble set 3 [taekai]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1st drabble for myself  
> 2nd drabble for clockworkinsanity who asked for taekai with a puppy (:

**twin effect**

 

when taemin and jongin walk into the dance school the day after they get together, hands linked and shoulders bumping, no one bats an eyelash. they're close enough that skinship is expected and natural, a fixture in their long friendship.

 

even when taemin wearily enters the teachers' office at the end of the day, winds his way straight to jongin's desk and wordlessly plops onto his boyfriend's lap, no one says a thing. 

 

"tired?" jongin asks, sliding his arms around taemin's waist. taemin nods, leaning back into jongin's chest. jongin chuckles, affection in every note.

 

"we'll leave in a bit," he promises, dropping a kiss onto taemin's shoulder. taemin sighs softly, and turns to leave a lingering kiss on the corner of jongin's mouth. 

 

there's silence after taemin moves away, and when he looks up, he sees four pairs of wide eyes from the other teachers staring at them. 

 

"are you two...dating?" hyukjae questions. he points an accusing finger at them. "when did this happen?"

 

"just!" taemin has no idea why jongin sounds so panicked.

 

"anything wrong with that?" taemin drawls, meeting hyukjae's eyes.

 

"isn't it like, illegal?" donghae queries.

 

"what." taemin's pretty sure he isn't talking about the gay thing because donghae isn't exactly all that heterosexual either.

 

"aren't you twins?" donghae tilts his head, and there's a tiny shocked pause before sunyoung starts laughing.

 

"oh god," she says between gasps of laughter. "i said that  _ once!  _ as a  _ joke!" _

 

_ "once!"  _ she's still laughing when donghae turns to hyukjae with a glare. 

 

"are you saying i've been referring to them as twins for _nearly_ _four years_ and you never thought to correct me?!"

 

"we didn't think you really believed it! even hakyeon knew they weren't!" hyukjae points to the corner where the newest teacher is currently trying to blend into the surroundings. he smiles stiffly and waves.

 

taemin rolls his eyes. "please stop making him regret his decision to apply here," he tells his cackling colleagues.

 

"sorry these people are so weird." this is addressed to hakyeon. hakyeon shrugs.

 

"everyone is, nowadays," he says calmly.

 

taemin smiles and leans closer to jongin. he listens to donghae berating hyukjae, and sunyoung's breathless gasping laughs, and hakyeon's shy but sharp interjections and thinks life is going to be just fine now.

 

(telling wonshik turns out to be much less smooth.

 

"are you saying hanging out with you guys now is just going to be me third wheeling every time?"

 

"this is ridiculous. how could you do this to me? i seriously need to make more friends.")

 

**puppy love**

 

taemin awakens to a shriek.

 

"the dog peed  _ again."  _ he hears jongin exclaim from outside the room.

 

"dogs  _ will _ do that," taemin points out groggily.

 

"he peed in front of the toilet and i nearly stepped in it!"

 

taemin rolls his eyes, and ignores his boyfriend. he hears the muffled sounds of jongin complaining at the puppy and the tiny barks that monggu gives, almost in response to each of jongin's sentences.

 

"you're the worst!"

 

"oh you agree, do you?"

 

"it's 430 in the morning, couldn't you have peed in your pee tray?"

 

"now i have to mop!"

 

"if i find poop somewhere, i'm ignoring it. let your other papa clean that up, hmm?"

 

jongin laughs softly when monggu lets out a volley of barks to that, and then there's silence for a while. when taemin sits up to check, jongin is padding quietly into their room, puppy in his arms. "he wants to sleep with us today," he lifts monggu up so he's face to face with taemin. 

 

"you're the soft papa," taemin mutters, but he gathers the puppy from jongin's arms and lets him curl up on his stomach to fall asleep.

 

"we need more food," jongin murmurs as he crawls under the covers. "and i saw a few toys in the pet shop near the school he might like, and wonshik was talking about puppy training he's sending his dog to, maybe we should consider doing that too. and-"

 

taemin gently slaps a hand over jongin's mouth. "breathe," he says, smiling into the darkness, "we'll talk about this in the morning."

 

"we need to bathe him tomorrow," jongin says around taemin's fingers. 

 

and taemin laughs, loud and bright. because who knew jongin was such a dog person, who knew he was such a worrier. who knew taemin could get so damned lucky.

 

monggu wakes up at the sound, casts a disgruntled glance at taemin and stalks over to lie on jongin's chest.

  
taemin laughs harder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> funfacts: vixx is my 2nd group after shinee, hakyeon is actually pclose to key and wonshik is part of tae-line so i'm using that to put them in as much as possible watch me xPPP  
> also i love hakyeon's dancing and so :D  
> hakyeon = n  
> wonshik = ravi

**Author's Note:**

> idk if anyone will take this up but if yall have ideas for drabbles in this au (not just jongkey; also jongtae, woohyun, taekai, minho, whatever lol), leave a note in the comments or beep me on my twitter (@syn_copate) ((:  
> i'm just trying to get my writing up and running again.


End file.
